


Welcome To The End

by Sally13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Nearly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 13:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19273897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sally13/pseuds/Sally13
Summary: This is a story of how Season 15 plays out in my wildest dreams...there's some angst, some sap, some sex...Picks up after S14's "Moriah" (canon compliant).  The guys are whisked away from certain doom in the cemetery and go after the Hell spawn, case by case, while trying to find a way to take them all out (while not dying in the process).  Dean and Cas get closer, and in the end, someone from TFW chooses to make the ultimate sacrifice.





	1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

It should have been Dean.

Dean was the one with the gun in his hand. Jack was willing to give himself up to Dean and Dean alone. He’d meant what he said when he told Dean that he was nothing but a monster--because in that moment, Jack was finally beginning to understand that he really and truly was.

He hadn’t lied to Cas--he didn’t feel much of anything anymore. However, the decision to kneel in front of Dean was a conscious one--he knew that he had irreparably harmed Dean, Sam, and Cas, and he needed to atone for it. He guessed that amounted to something like guilt.

In the end, it was the man standing with Sam, the one they’d all called Chuck, who had done something to him. He wasn’t sure who--or what--Chuck was, but he could sense the power radiating from the seemingly unassuming man. 

It should have been Dean.

Now there was nothing but darkness, a humanoid blob that Jack assumed was The Empty, and an imposing woman holding a scythe saying, “We should talk.” 

Jack simply peered up at her, waiting for her to continue. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” she said slowly, pinning Jack with her unwavering gaze.

“That man sent me here--Chuck?”

The statement coaxed a wry smile from the woman. “Ah yes. Chuck,” she nearly spat. “Jack, do you know what I am?”

Jack studied her for a moment longer before replying, “Are you Death? Billie?”

Billie nodded subtly before continuing, “I don’t know how much Sam and Dean have told you, but one of my rules is that I don’t like to interfere. However…. “Chuck” has overstepped. This will inevitably lead to cosmic consequences…something I enjoy even less than interference.”

Jack, who was starting to put some of the pieces together, asked, “Does this mean you’re sending me back?”

This earned Jack another wry smile. Billie glanced at the embodiment of The Empty and forcefully said, “Yes. But there are things we need to discuss first.”

A wave of relief swept over Jack. This time he could do things properly--he could be good--all he needed was a second chance. The fact that he was feeling relief at all was something of a wonder, but nothing he wanted to dwell upon. He nodded as a means of encouraging Billie to continue.

“The Winchesters and Castiel need your help, especially right now,” Billie continued. “I will be sending you back as you are with your powers intact.”

“And my soul? It’s back too?”

“No, not exactly,” Billie replied. “Your soul was never really gone--there is but a sliver that remains--and your angelic grace is slowly starting to temper the effects of the loss. But you will never be as you once were.”

Jack felt a flicker of despair at this. “But Sam and Dean--they hate me. They’ll never take me back, especially if things can’t be the same.”

“I suggest working to get back into their good graces. Seeing as though they need you right now, this shouldn’t be difficult.”

A lull in the conversation had Jack looking around at the blackness, and a thought suddenly occurred to him. “When I do die, for good, will I come back here?”

“No,” Billie replied. “The Empty and I have reached...an understanding...as long as you retain even a remnant of your human soul, you will go to Heaven upon your death. You were brought here now as a means of easier communication, since I am not entirely welcome in Heaven.”

“Can I come here instead? I want to take Castiel’s place.”

Silence.

“You want Castiel freed from the deal he made with The Empty? As I understand it, he was only to be taken upon achieving happiness--something he is not likely to find with the Winchesters. Are you certain this is something you want?” Billie inquired.

“Yes--as long as I can come when it’s time for me to die, not sooner.”

Billie looked at the shifting, opaque blob that was still hovering behind Jack. “Is this acceptable to you?” she asked. She received a few gestures in return which prompted her to nod stiffly.

“Very well, Jack. Castiel’s debt has been transferred on to you.”

For the first time since his arrival, Jack smiled. “Thank you,” he said earnestly. 

Billie cast him an amused glance before saying, “Don’t thank me just yet. There’s one more thing you need to know before I send you back.”


	2. What We Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Sam, and Cas are mysteriously transported back to the bunker and have to figure out how to pick up the pieces.

The iron fencepost felt solid in Dean’s hand but it gave him little confidence--still, he figured it was better than nothing. He briefly thought about the gun--what was it that Chuck called it? The Equalizer? Yeah, there was no way he was EVER going to call it that...but realized he had one good shot. He couldn’t ask Sammy and Cas to each take a shot, and even if they did--that took care of 3 souls. There was a hell of a lot more than 3 souls rushing them. His only strategy at this point was to attempt to cut a path to Baby and hope that the car would get them out of the cemetery, but he wasn’t stupid--that was a long shot at best. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if iron worked on these bastards...

Dean stood next to Sam, brushing shoulders with him, and wishing he could do the same with Cas--just reach out and touch Cas one last time before the horde descended. He always figured this would be the way he’d go, but to have it be God’s doing? That was a twist he never could have predicted. 

The bubble of safety around the three closed rapidly and Dean raised the iron post waist-high, preparing to slash horizontally at the first soul that came within reach. The winner was an ugly woman with maggoty hair and torn clothing and he swung backwards before slashing, promptly slamming the fencepost into a support column in the War Room.

The vibration from the collision ricocheted throughout his body and he dropped the post in shock. He spun around to find Sam and Cas, still clutching their weapons, their faces adorned with expressions of shock mixed with relief. Dean figured his face looked about the same.

Knowing it was a stupid question, but needing to say something, Dean stammered, “C-Cas? Was that you? Did you just fly us here?” Cas shook his head but refrained from giving Dean a look or admonishment. Sam slowly spun in a circle, as if expecting the responsible party to jump out of the shadows.

“Jessica? Billie?” Sam called. Silence answered him. “Do we not have a reaper assigned to us anymore?” he asked the others, to which Dean simply shrugged.

“What. Just. Happened.” Cas hammered out in a staccato voice that was unlike him. “How are we back?”

Sam finally placed his fencepost on the War Room table and shook his head. “I honestly don’t know, but I’m grateful. We weren’t getting out of that.”

The three men looked at each other for a few heartbeats, attempting to process what had just transpired and what next steps to take. Cas was the first to move as he stowed his angel blade and approached the stairs. He had made it halfway up to the front door of the bunker when Dean called out to him, “Cas? Where are you going?”

Cas paused and pivoted to look down at Dean. “I have to go and retrieve Jack. No matter what he’s done, he deserves a hunter’s funeral. I will drive the Impala back here as well, then be on my way.”

“What do you mean, be on your way?” Dean asked. He tried to keep the panic out of his voice and he thought he succeeded.

“You said that I was ‘dead to you,’” Cas said (complete with air quotes), “and told me to walk away because I didn’t want Jack dead. I’m simply attempting to follow your wishes.” There was no anger or sarcasm in his voice, only sadness and resignation. Sam shot Dean a dirty look and took a seat at the War Room table, folding his arms. 

“Cas....look...I...I didn’t mean those things, okay? I was upset. I’m sorry. Please don’t go,” Dean managed to choke out as he ran a hand over the back of his neck and studiously avoided eye contact with Cas. When Cas didn’t reply, Dean finally looked up at him and added, “Please, man, we need you here. I need you here. I just lost Mom, and now Jack...I can’t lose you too, not with everything that just went down. Please.”

Cas felt the last of his resolve crumble at Dean’s words...honestly, there hadn’t been that much to begin with...and he had been hoping that Dean would ask him to stay. “All right, Dean,” he said softly as he began to walk back down the stairs. “However, I would like to bring Jack back, and I know you would like to have the Impala back as well.”

“I’m pretty sure Dean and I agree with you there, Cas, but it’s not safe right now,” Sam volunteered, watching as Cas came to stand a mere foot in front of his brother and enter into their usual staring contest. “We need a plan, we need a shower and some sleep, and we need a way of knowing if it’s safe to go back to the cemetery.”

“We need pie. And alcohol,” Dean added, not taking his eyes off Cas.

Sam sighed. “That too.”

________________________________________________________________

“You heard me, Jody. God released a bunch of souls from Hell.” Dean fiddled with the coffee maker as he spoke on the phone. Jody was his first call, and he had asked her to fill in Donna, Claire, Alex, and Patience. This was definitely an all-hands-on-deck situation.

“We hope iron will work on them, but we honestly don’t know…” Dean proceeded to tell Jody about their mysterious escape from the cemetery, and they ended their call with promises to stay in touch, especially when they found out what worked on the evil bitches. After Dean hung up, he began to pour 3 mugs of strong coffee to bring to the library.

When he walked into the library, he heard Sam on the phone with Charlie. Charlie was trying to avoid hunting, but yeah...all-hands-on-deck. Cas accepted one of the mugs with a grateful half-smile and took a sip. “I already spoke with Bobby,” he said quietly so as not to disturb Sam. “He is already contacting other hunters.”

Dean nodded, sipping at his own coffee, having put Sam’s mug down on the table directly in front of the man. “Had he seen anything yet?” he asked, taking a seat next to Cas.

“No, but I’m not surprised...even if the ‘resurrection’ wasn’t localized to that cemetery, it will take some time for the souls to wreak havoc and even longer for word to reach the hunting community.”

Sam ended his call with Charlie and for the first time in days, he smiled. “Charlie’s coming,” he said quietly. “She’s not thrilled about being dragged back into hunting, but she’s downright pissed about what happened, so she’s in. She is going to try to find a way to tap into any cameras near the cemetery so we can get a look at a live feed to know when it’s safe to go back.”

Dean found himself smiling as well--even if this wasn’t his Charlie, it felt like it was close enough to his adopted little sister. “Awesome. Jody’s going to sit tight at her place, but she was going to try to get Donna to stay with her so all of the girls are under one roof.”

“Bobby mentioned making his way here as well,” Cas said quietly. “I think we just have to contact Garth?”

“I’m on it,” Sam said. “Then, I’m taking a long shower. By the way, Cas, thanks for fixing the shoulder.” He lifted the previously injured shoulder with a smile on his face, then left the library, happily sipping his coffee.

Dean started to fidget in his chair. Even though he had convinced Cas to stay, he knew they hadn’t said everything that needed to be said. Dean really didn’t want to go there--didn’t want to talk about Mom, or Jack...but he also knew he’d been wrong about stuff. He knew he owed it to Cas to at least try to talk about some of this shit.

“Look, Cas….uh….I really am sorry for all of that crap I said.”

“Dean…”

“No, Cas, just….let me get this out, ok?” Cas nodded. Dean continued to fidget and attempted eye contact with Cas, but found it to be too difficult. “Yeah, I was pissed when Mom died...and I really thought that Jack had become a monster that we needed to stop. Not because I wanted him to be, though. It’s just...he blamed Mom for killing her, and that wasn’t okay. I got mad at you because I thought you couldn’t understand what it was like to lose someone, you know, ‘cause you’re an angel...but that’s not true at all, that was a stupid thing to think....so I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I’m sorry.”

Cas blinked at Dean a couple of times, waiting to make sure that Dean was finished talking. Dean hadn’t uttered the most eloquent apology, but Cas knew that he meant it, and if nothing else, Cas was beginning to understand just how much Dean was hurting.

When Dean didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, Cas leaned forward and placed his hand on Dean’s left shoulder. “Dean. I understand your anger. I forgive you, and I apologize for my own behavior.”

Dean finally looked at Cas then, his eyes wide with surprise. “Cas, you didn’t do anything wrong! You were right! You wanted to save Jack, to help him somehow...and then I nearly killed him by listening to stupid Chuck.” Dean lowered his head again, as though he was finally coming to grips with everything that had occurred. “I can’t believe Jack is gone...I saw at the end that he wasn’t really the monster I thought...dammit, Cas, there was hope for him!”

“I know,” Cas said softly. “All of us were deceived by Chuck. If you really think about it, this is all my fault...I attempted to contact Chuck weeks ago to ask him to restore Jack’s soul. Maybe if I had never made that call, Jack would still be alive.”

“No, Cas, don’t do that to yourself,” Dean said, finally making and maintaining eye contact with Cas. “I’m going to do that enough for the both of us, I think. But when it comes right down to it, this one’s on Chuck. We both believed him, because he’s, you know, GOD. We could have never seen this coming.”

Cas didn’t have a response to that.

______________________________________________________________________

When Billie sent Jack back to the cemetery, he didn’t bother to assess the situation. Billie had warned him that it would be bad. He simply whisked Dean, Sam, and Cas back to the bunker, popping back to the cemetery before they could notice him. Keeping his physical body on a different plane, he looked around for the special gun that Sam had dropped. He located it quickly, scooped it up, then flew to the Impala and transported it and himself to the bunker’s garage.

As he approached the War Room, he heard his family talking. He heard Cas talk about a hunter’s funeral for him, and he almost said something--almost made his presence known--but he didn’t. He didn’t know if he would be welcome. He told himself he’d stop Cas or anyone else from going back to the cemetery since there was no need. For right now, he’d be content with listening in for the right moment to reveal himself.


	3. Research Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean invites another guest to the bunker to try out an idea he has for capturing Hell spawn souls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and compliments. I am most appreciative!

Dean sat at the small desk in his room, sipping a glass of whiskey. He guessed it to be about 3 AM--it seemed that when Chuck had sprung the souls from Hell, he had also fast-forwarded the day. Dean found himself hoping that was the only thing he’d done and that the sun would indeed rise at the appropriate time. 

Sam had gone to bed, but Dean doubted if he was actually sleeping peacefully. Cas was in the library researching, trying to determine what, if anything, would inflict damage upon the Hell spawn. For his part, Dean was mulling over his acquaintance with Chuck, trying to figure out if he could have seen all of...THIS...coming. He thought back to the alcoholic prophet afraid of his own shadow and really had to wonder if that was the real, human Chuck. He had rather liked that guy. He thought of the somewhat sanctimonious Chuck who’d stayed in the bunker, singing terrible folk songs, making pancakes, and arguing with Lucifer...the Chuck who nearly died, but was ultimately pulled back from the brink by his own sister in a garden…

Dean suddenly sat up straighter as his mind focused on all of the memories from that time period. He picked up his phone, searched for a contact, and pressed Call.

“Dean. Do you know what time it is? This had better be good.”

“Believe me, Rowena, it is.”

___________________________________________________________

Cas sat quietly in the library, idly paging through a Men of Letters tome. He didn’t really think that it would be helpful, but he needed to do something while Sam and Dean rested. He was fairly certain that angel blades would take care of the errant souls, and there were certainly a few extra lying around that the hunters could wield. However, he could admit that an elegant solution which eliminated several thousand souls at once would be quite welcome.

He sat back in his chair and ran his hands over his face, taking in the familiar hum of the bunker. He felt more emotions than was usual flitting through his grace--guilt (though to be honest, that lived with him permanently now), sadness, grief, anger, despair, and love. While he was no stranger to these emotions, he’d never felt all of them at once before, and it was making him feel unbalanced and slightly uncomfortable. 

Mere moments passed before he didn’t so much as hear Dean walk in but sensed Dean’s soul, and he turned around with a neutral expression on his face. “Hello, Dean. I thought you were resting.”

“Not so much. Rowena’s on her way.”

Cas tilted his head. “What? Why?”

“All hands on deck, Cas. She may be able to help.”

Cas considered for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, Dean. Whatever you think is best. Perhaps she knows of a spell we can use.”

Dean took a seat next to Cas, looking somewhat excited. “That’s just it, Cas. Do you remember the soul bomb we made to take out Amara?”

Of course he did. He thought he lost Dean that day...again. He tried not to think about it very often. Cas didn’t say any of this out loud, but nodded.

“I was thinking that we could do something like that again...without the bomb part, of course. But we had to pull all of the souls into an object to make the bomb. We could try something like that, right?”

Dean looked so hopeful that Cas didn’t have the heart to point out the flaws in that plan. He wasn’t sure how much of this Dean had explained to Rowena, so perhaps the witch had knowledge that Cas didn’t. Even if that wasn’t the case, he decided it would be up to her to disappoint Dean.

“I suppose that’s possible,” Cas replied evenly, which made Dean smile brightly. Yes, Cas thought, it was definitely worth lying a little for that smile. 

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a few moments while Cas turned back to his book and Dean watched him out of the corner of his eye. Finally Dean said, “Cas? How are you doing?”

Cas turned to him, a quizzical look on his face. “I’m fine, Dean.”

“Are you sure? I know I’m not good at talking about feelings...and I don’t know how much you’re actually feeling right now...but I know you have to be upset about Jack...so if you want to talk…”

Cas gave Dean a small smile. “Thank you, Dean, but I’m fine. I’m sad, but there’s nothing you can do to change that. It is important to mourn those that we have loved and lost, because that means at least we had the chance to love them.”

Dean suddenly felt a little lost himself, then, thinking about both Mary and Jack. He thought that by now he’d be used to losing people he loved, but the truth was, it never got any easier. If anything, he was just getting very good at building pyres, and wasn’t that a horrific thought. He felt himself shudder, knowing that he was going to have to build one for Jack. He figured Cas would try to do it himself, but no way was Dean going to let that happen. Cas, maybe even Sam, could help--but the kid was dead because Dean hadn’t known how to help him. The least Dean could do was properly put him to rest.

Cas must have noticed the anguish on Dean’s face, because he gently placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m starting to think that maybe I should be asking you if you’re all right,” he said gently.

Dean shook himself, as though he could physically remove the depressing thoughts from his head, and tried to smile. When he failed, he simply reached up and covered Cas’ hand with his own. “Yeah, Cas. I’m all right.” He let his hand linger for a few seconds, telling himself he deserved just that small comfort, before letting his hand fall back to the table. Cas left his hand for a minute or so longer, gently stroking Dean’s shoulder, before letting go without another word.

___________________________________________________________________

“Cas, would you mind waking Sam up?” It was nearly 6AM, and Rowena was due at the bunker any minute. Dean was feeling antsy and wanted to look not only for Rowena, but also the impending sunrise. Cas nodded and left the library while Dean ascended the stairs to the front door of the bunker.

Dean had an angel blade in hand just in case there were souls camped out. He wasn’t sure if these things could find the bunker so he wasn’t about to act complacently. He gently pushed open the outer door and was relieved to see a bluish glow in the sky. He didn’t leave the doorway but took a cursory glance around and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Hopefully, Rowena, Bobby, and Charlie wouldn’t have any issues getting into the bunker once they arrived.

As though he had conjured her up with a thought, Rowena pulled up. Dean waited for her to get out of her car and she stole into the entryway ahead of him. By the time he had followed her down the stairs, she was greeting Cas and Sam. Sam looked a bit sleep-tousled, but unsurprised to see Rowena.

“All right, gentleman, I came rushing here in the middle of the night. Dean promised me it was for a good reason. Are we looking for Jack again?”

The three men eyed each other uncomfortably, and Sam may have even glared at Dean a little. Dean shrugged. He hadn’t wanted to spill everything to Rowena over the phone, mostly because he assumed she would be angry and wouldn’t help. He was hoping that if she was already there, it would be easier to talk her into staying.

“Jack is dead,” Cas said quietly, looking at the floor.

Rowena immediately rounded on Dean. “What did you do?” she hissed.

Dean threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “It wasn’t me. It was Chuck.”

“Chuck? As in God?!? I hardly think so,” Rowena said, disbelief and derision in her tone. She looked carefully at Cas and Sam and realized by the looks on their faces that it was true. She drew in a shaky breath or two before asking what had happened.

The four of them sat around a table while Dean explained everything with the other men jumping in with salient points when needed. When Dean finished, Rowena sat quietly with her fingers steepled.

“And what is it you expect me to do?” she asked after a few silent minutes.

“Remember the soul bomb you built to take out Amara?” Dean asked. Rowena nodded, but a wary look crossed her face. “I was thinking we could do something like that again...without the part that goes boom, of course.”

Rowena pursed her lips, then sent Dean a look of regret and sympathy. “Dean, that’s not going to work. The purpose of pulling all of those souls was to gather energy--energy for the bomb. If we capture souls in any object, that object will become too unstable in a short period of time. It’s not safe, and it’s not a long-term solution.”

“So...no matter what, it goes boom?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Rowena said gently. “But yes.”

Sam looked pensive for a moment. “There was a case that I handled solo a few years back--there were demons mining souls for Abbadon. They kept each soul in a glass jar. Those jars were stable. Couldn’t we theoretically bind a few souls to a small object and simply collect the objects into a curse box?”

“Certainly, if we were talking about 50 souls. Not thousands. It’s just not feasible,” Rowena said.

Cas turned to Dean at this point, desperate to salvage the man’s hope. “It was a good idea, Dean. It could be putting us on the right track.” Dean offered him a soft smile in return.

A knock sounded above them and they all scrambled out of their seats, immediately on guard. Rowena stepped out of view of the door while Cas drew his blade. Dean grabbed the blade he had kept on the table in front of him and walked up the stairs while Cas stood at the bottom, tensed. Sam moved to stand in front of Rowena as Dean slowly edged the door open. 

“Morning, bitches.”


	4. Reunited and It Feels So Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack reveals himself to the others, and Jody calls in with news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case there is any confusion, Charlie is Apocalypse World Charlie that we last saw in Season 14's "Optimism".
> 
> Thanks for the "Kudos"! It keeps me going!

Jack had been silently watching the proceedings from the shadows, trying to find the courage to reveal himself. Doubts filled his mind--would anyone even accept his offer of help? Would they ever come to trust him? He wanted to tell them what he had done for Castiel--not because he wanted praise, but because he wanted to show everyone that he was in earnest. But to say something was to betray Castiel’s confidence regarding the deal made with The Empty--not exactly a good place to start.

As Jack idly handled the gun he had retrieved from the cemetery, an idea began to take shape in his mind. He flew out of the bunker just as his family was talking with Rowena and landed on an empty hillside about a mile away.

He closed his eyes and whispered, “Billie? Can we talk?” He didn’t have to wait long before there was a change in the surrounding air and Death stood before him. She didn’t say anything, merely gave him a searching look and waited for him to speak.

“I’m...concerned...that Sam and Dean won’t ever be able to trust me again. If they can’t trust me, they won’t accept my help. I can only do so much without their knowledge.” Billie gave a curt nod. “So, I had an idea…” Jack pulled the gun out of his pocket, studying it once more. “What if I told them to carry this, and if I ever did something bad, they could kill me and you would bring them back?”

“I see,” Billie said. “You’re okay with this?” Jack nodded eagerly. If he ever did to someone else like what he had done to Mary, or even Nick, then he didn’t deserve to live. This was the best option as far as he was concerned.

“Consider it done,” Billie said, vanishing as soon as she’d spoken. Jack felt a trickle of relief flow through him, which made him feel even better about the plan. He flew back to the bunker to continue monitoring the events at hand.

________________________________________________________________

Dean stepped back to let Charlie into the bunker, relief forcing the tension out of his shoulders. He wanted to hug her but kept himself in check, remembering that this Charlie didn’t think of him as an older brother and probably still wouldn’t welcome the physical contact. To his great surprise, Charlie wrapped her arms around his waist and released quickly. Despite the awkwardness, Dean appreciated it.

Cas nodded to Charlie as she descended into the War Room, moving out of the way for her, and she spared him a half-smile. She greeted Sam and Rowena who had both resumed their seats at the table in the library, then pulled out her laptop and said, “All right, where is this cemetery?”

As the others gave her the approximate location, Dean went into the kitchen to get her a cup of coffee. He was attempting not to think too much, because he knew that if he did, the grief would annihilate him. He focused on pouring a small amount of cream into Charlie’s coffee and adding a teaspoon of sugar. As he walked back into the library, he heard Charlie telling the others that video feed was a no-go.

“This cemetery is in the middle of nowhere. There are no businesses, no intersections, nothing nearby with a camera that I can tap into.”

“Where’s the nearest camera?” Dean asked as he put the mug on the table in front of Charlie.

“About ten miles away,” Charlie said.

Dean thought for a moment. “Can you check that one anyway? Start looking at about midnight.”

Charlie did some clicking and was soon looking through camera images. Dean and Sam were never really sure just how she managed it--normally hacking into something could take hours, more likely days--but either universe’s Charlie seemed to have a special kind of magic when it came to that particular skill. She went through images starting at midnight and ending with an image from 5 minutes ago...and there was nothing. No anomalies, no transparent souls gliding past the camera, just a fat load of normal traffic flow.

Dean exchanged a look with Sam and Cas. “Well,” he said, “the souls could still be camped out at the cemetery, or they all managed to go different directions, or they decided to travel by invisible means.” When nobody responded, Dean ran a hand through his hair and said, “I don’t actually know what the odds are that they all stayed behind, but I think they’re low enough that we could risk going back.”

He looked at Cas, and one of their trademarked silent conversations took place. Cas appeared to be in agreement. Sam stood patiently, forming his own thoughts, and knew that because it was Jack, the two of them would charge in without a back-up plan. “That’s fine,” Sam said. “But I think we need to address the fact that we don’t know how to eliminate these things.”

Rowena looked to Cas and asked, “Can you still smite things?” Cas nodded. “Then there’s your fall-back.” 

Dean looked a bit hesitant. “How many could you smite before you’re drained?”

Cas looked at him, fighting down the annoyance and hurt that he felt rising. “I don’t know, Dean. Probably more than you could.” The words came out clipped, and when hurt and disbelief flashed across Dean’s face, Cas immediately regretted it. The truth was he hated giving Dean any perception of weakness. He still wanted to be Dean’s guardian angel, all-powerful and able to stop anything that came for Dean. He would never be used to Dean fretting over him. “Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he said in a gentler tone.

“It’s fine. You’re our back-up plan.” Dean turned away from him before Cas could try to read the expression on his face, but nevertheless, it left Cas feeling cold. Sam, Rowena, and Charlie all sat in their chairs, pretending that they hadn’t just witnessed the tense exchange.

“I’m going to grab some stuff from my room,” Dean said abruptly. “We’ll meet in the garage in 15 and figure out what car to take. Rowena and Charlie--can you two work together to figure out a way to trap and eliminate a lot of these things at once?” He didn’t wait for an answer before escaping the library.

___________________________________________________________________

Jack knew that he couldn’t delay any longer. Dean would get to the garage and see the Impala, which would definitely lead to more questions but ultimately wouldn’t deter him from going to the cemetery. He waited until Dean had gotten into his bedroom and closed the door before arriving with a tell-tale flutter of wings.

Dean spun around and simply gaped at him. He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t have the chance to get the words out before a knock at the door came. “Dean?” Cas said, voice muffled by the wood between them. “Can I come in?”

Dean couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even breathe. He was beginning to wonder if he was hallucinating, or if he’d passed out and was dreaming. Cas didn’t wait for an answer and slowly pushed the door open, saying, “Dean? Are you okay?” His eyes fell upon Jack and his mouth fell open.

Okay, so not hallucinating. Maybe still dreaming, Dean thought.

“Jack?” Cas breathed. 

Jack turned to Cas, finally taking his eyes off Dean. “Hello, Castiel.” Cas threw his arms around the young man and Jack responded in kind.

Dean finally found his voice, saying, “How…?”

Jack broke away from Cas’ embrace with a weak smile and said, “Billie sent me back.” He paused, taking in the look on Dean’s face, before continuing, “Dean, I am so sorry about what happened with…”

Jack never finished the rest of the sentence because before he realized it, Dean had surged forward and wrapped him in a tight hug. It was the warmth and love that he suddenly felt coursing through him that rendered him speechless.

Dean released him and fixed Jack with an intense gaze. Jack could see two limpid pools of unshed tears in Dean’s eyes and once again felt a rush of warmth. He wondered if this is what forgiveness felt like.

“Jack,” Dean said softly, emotion clouding his voice. “It’s forgiven.”

______________________________________________________________

“Stay away from the Book of the Damned,” Sam was telling Rowena when Cas, Dean, and Jack walked into the library. Sam didn’t notice at first, but a gasp from Charlie had him looking up.

“Hello, Sam,” Jack said, raising his hand in an awkward manner. Before Sam could form a coherent thought and respond, he continued with, “Hello, Rowena, Charlie.”

The silence that filled the library was oppressive. It wasn’t until Dean put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and locked eyes with Sam that everyone took a breath.

Sam swung around from behind the table and grabbed Jack into a hug much like Dean had. He said nothing, but chose to let his nonverbal actions speak instead.

Once Sam had released him and the moment had passed, Rowena said, “Not that I’m not happy to see you up and about, but how did this happen?”

Jack told the tale of what had transpired while he was in The Empty, with a few omissions. At one point, he had looked at Cas and said, “Cas, you don’t have to worry about The Empty anymore.” 

Jack hoped that would be sufficient, but Cas’ eyes narrowed and he said, “Jack, what have you done?”

Dean looked back and forth between Cas and Jack and said, “What the Hell are you two talking about?”

Jack swallowed. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. He decided to look to Cas, since it was Cas’ secret to start.

“I’ll tell you later,” Cas mumbled in Dean’s direction. 

Anger flashed across Dean’s face, prompting Jack to take a step backwards. “No,” Dean growled. “You’ll tell me now. You’ll tell all of us now. What is Jack talking about?”

Jack was starting to panic. “Cas, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything…”

Dean looked at Jack now, but his expression was softer. “It’s okay, Jack. I don’t think this one is on you.” He looked back to Cas, his expression sharpening once again. Sam, Rowena, and Charlie had faded into the background but were as curious as Dean, even if they didn’t possess the same vitriol. Sam honestly wasn’t surprised by Dean’s anger, because anytime someone Dean loved did something potentially stupid and damaging, anger was Dean’s knee-jerk response.

Cas squared his shoulders and met Dean’s fierce gaze. “Back when I went to Heaven to retrieve Jack’s soul, The Empty was pursuing him. By the time I found Jack, The Empty had found us. In order to successfully bring Jack back, I made a deal--The Empty could have me instead of Jack. It agreed, but said it would take me once I had allowed myself to finally be happy. At the time, we were dealing with Michael, so I didn’t see this as a problem. Based upon the way our lives are, I don’t foresee this ever being an issue.”

Silence reigned throughout the library. Cas looked down at his shoes, bracing himself for Dean’s inevitable outburst. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean asked, his tone surprisingly quiet.

Cas looked up at Dean, mild surprise on his face. “I didn’t want to burden you,” he said simply. “I made Jack promise not to say anything either.” He turned to Jack at this point. “What did you mean when you said I didn’t have to worry anymore? What have you done?”

It was Jack’s turn to look a bit sheepish, but he looked Cas in the eye when he said, “I had your deal transferred to me. I was supposed to go to Heaven when I died, but now I will go to The Empty.”

Cas looked at Jack with pain in his eyes, and Dean muttered a curse quietly. “Please don’t be upset,” Jack implored. “I don’t regret this. I wanted it this way.”

The quiet following Jack’s statement was interrupted by Dean’s phone ringing. “Jody,” he said softly before answering. “Hey, Jody, I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Hi Dean, Sam, Cas,” she said. “...and anyone else who’s there. Saw a couple of weird ones on the wire.”

“Our kind of weird?” Sam inquired.

“I think so,” Jody said. “The first one seems pretty innocent, but it was just...odd. A woman called in and said that a clown she hadn’t hired showed up to her kid’s birthday party. The guy seemed ‘off’ and didn’t actually interact with the children at all--he stayed for about an hour before vanishing before her eyes.” 

While Jody spoke, comprehension dawned on Sam’s face. “Sounds like Gacy,” he said lowly.

“Gacy? As in John Wayne Gacy?” Jody asked, alarmed. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, “in his ghost form, he was dressed as a clown. Where did this happen?”

“Cedar Rapids, Iowa.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. “How much you want to bet he’s headed home?” Sam asked. 

“Chicago?” Dean said

“Well, technically Norwood Park,” Sam said. This caused Dean to roll his eyes.

“What was the other weird one, Jody?” Cas asked.

“There was blood found in a locked car on a lonely stretch of highway in Colorado. Local PD thinks animal attack, but no body's been found and there aren't any broken windows or signs of a struggle."

Sam and Dean again looked at each other, and said simultaneously, “Woman in White.”

Dean looked thoughtful before adding, “You don’t think it’s the one from Jericho, do you?” 

Sam shrugged. “At this point, who knows? It may be a good place to start.”

Dean looked back down at this phone. “Okay, Jody, these definitely sound like our kind of thing. We’ll handle it from here.”

“What should I do?” she asked.

“Keep an eye out for similar things,” Sam volunteered. “And we’ll figure it out from there.”

“All right,” Jody said, trepidation seeping into her voice. “You boys be careful.”

“Aren’t we always?” Dean asked before ending the call. He looked up at Sam, already formulating a plan in his mind. “Sam, you should probably go after Gacy. You’re the serial killer expert, after all, Mr. ‘It’s-Norwood-Park-not-Chicago’.”

Sam rolled his eyes but he had to agree with Dean. “That’s fine, but I’m not the right age.”

“Say what now?”

“Gacy liked them young--teenagers and guys in their early twenties. I’m fairly certain I’m a bit too old for that,” Sam replied. 

All eyes fell on Jack, the only one of them who fit that description.

“Whoa,” Dean said, “look, I’m glad Jack is back, but…”

“You’re not sure I should be going out there alone with Sam,” Jack finished for him. “I understand that. Which is why I have an agreement with Billie,” he said as he pulled the gun out of his waistband.

“Jack, where did you get that?” Cas asked warily.

“I picked it up in the cemetery. I brought you back here, then went back to the cemetery to retrieve this and the Impala.”

An uneasy silence fell over the group. Dean had a million questions he wanted to ask, but he figured he should stick with the most critical. “Why do you have that gun, and what does that have to do with Billie?”

“I want to tell you why the gun is important, but now isn’t the time. I will tell you, I promise. As for Billie, I got her to agree to something. I know it’s going to take a long time before any of you can really trust me again--can trust me not to hurt people, to use my powers appropriately--so I want you to carry this gun. If I get out of control, you need to kill me. Billie has promised to bring you back.” With those words, Jack handed the gun to Sam. “Sam, please. Let me go with you, and if you have to use this, do it. Billie will bring you back.”

Sam reluctantly took the gun from Jack and exchanged a look with Dean. Sam had to admit, this plan seemed like a great idea. He wasn’t sure he could pull the trigger, but it felt like a bit of a security blanket. “Dean?” he asked. “Is this all right?”

Sam could tell by looking at Dean that they shared the same mixed feelings, but Dean nodded. “All right, Sammy,” he said. “You and Jack go after Gacy, Cas and I can start heading to Jericho.”

“What about us?” Charlie asked. 

Dean turned to her. “Same plan as before. Find a way to gank hundreds of these things at once. Bobby is also on his way here, so you can fill him too. If anything else crops up while we’re gone, send him out on it.”

Rowena and Charlie both nodded. Rowena opened the Black Grimoire and Charlie immediately began typing on her laptop.

“Cas, I’m going to grab my stuff. Meet you at the Impala in 10,” Dean said before disappearing from the library.

Sam turned to Jack before saying, “Same, Jack, but we’ll take something else from the garage.”

Sam went to Dean’s room before going to his own. “Dean, are you sure about this? Splitting up?”

Dean was shoving clothes into a duffel bag as he answered, “No, I’m not really sure about anything at this point. But we have to go in two different directions, and this seems to make the most sense.” He stopped what he was doing and turned towards Sam. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want you to have to use that gun, but...if it’s you or him…”

“I know, Dean. I know.” 

Dean gave Sam a quick hug and a solemn nod, and Sam trudged to his own room to pack a bag. “And so it begins,” Sam whispered quietly.


	5. Woman in White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas take on Jericho's Woman in White

Dean was incredibly grateful to have his Baby back. Regardless of the turmoil in his life, there was something soothing about the feel of the road, the roar of the Impala’s engine, and the smoothness of the steering wheel under his fingers. 

He and Cas spent the first half hour of the ride in silence (save for Led Zeppelin, of course). There was tension between them, but neither one wanted to be the first to speak, though Cas was fairly certain that everything was his fault this time. When he had gone to Dean’s room, he had intended to apologize for snapping at Dean. Jack’s unexpected arrival had temporarily driven the thought from his mind, but it was back with another apology, this time for the deal with The Empty.

“Dean,” Cas finally said. “Dean, I’m sorry for snapping at you...and for everything regarding that deal with The Empty.”

Dean glanced at Cas and saw the contrition on his face. He looked back at the road and sighed, feeling downright weary. “Why?”

Cas employed his famous head-tilt, giving Dean a confused look. “Why what?”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because...you’re upset.”

“Oh, is that all?” Dean could hear the petulance in his voice and began to wonder why he was acting like this. He should just accept the apology and move on, but he had to keep poking at it. “Do you even know why I’m upset, Cas?”

“I spoke harshly to you.”

Dean abruptly maneuvered the car to the shoulder and threw it into Park. He gave Cas a stern gaze and said, “No, Cas. That’s not it. I’m upset because you think you need to hide things from me. I’m upset because you don’t let me worry about you. I’m upset because you don’t let me be who I am.”

Cas looked stunned at the admission, which matched exactly how Dean was feeling. Dean hadn’t meant to say all of that, but now that it was out there…

“You’re right, Dean,” Cas said after visibly swallowing. “I keep thinking that I have to be strong for you, that I shouldn’t burden you with my problems. I forget that helping others is ingrained in your soul--it is what makes your soul so breathtaking. I will endeavor to remember that in the future.”

Whatever Dean was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. He felt himself start to blush and stammered, “Er...right...you do that. Yep.” He then looked in the rearview mirror to check for traffic before changing gears and easing off the shoulder.

___________________________________________________________________

Cas and Dean were approaching the Colorado town wherein the attack had occurred when Dean’s phone rang again. It was Jody, telling them that there was a report of a similar attack, this time near the border of Utah and Nevada. After some discussion with Cas, it was decided to skip the Colorado scene in favor of getting further west on I-70.

After nearly 11 hours on the road and two pit stops, Dean pulled into a crappy motel outside of Green River, Utah. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept and while he could turn the wheel over to Cas, he knew he was getting a bit old to be sleeping in cars.

Dean paid for a room with a single queen bed and had Cas stay in the car to avoid any awkward questions. After all, it’s not like Cas needed to sleep, but the teenager behind the counter didn’t know that.

Dean grabbed his duffel from the backseat and lead Cas into Room 10. He had been expecting much worse, but the room wasn’t too bad. The carpeting looked relatively new and the walls were painted a light blue with only a handful of scuff marks. The bedspread had seen better days, but the TV was a modestly-sized flat screen. A desk and chair took up the remainder of the space and a bathroom beckoned opposite the front door.

“I’m taking a shower,” Dean said, throwing his duffel on the bed and unzipping it. He dug out a clean t-shirt and boxers while Cas sat in the desk chair.

The water was delightfully hot even if the pressure wasn’t great, but Dean luxuriated in it nonetheless. He ran over the day’s events in his mind and found that even though he had a lot of cause for concern, he felt relatively good. Jack was back from the dead (again) and he was on the road with Cas. They were actively doing something about the problem.

Dean’s thoughts turned to Cas and he began to wonder about the angel’s smiting abilities. Cas’ grace had been relatively stable, but he didn’t often rely on that particular extension of it. Dean was really hoping that the necessity wouldn’t arise because he didn’t want Cas to be worn out. An image popped into his mind of holding an exhausted and disheveled Cas in his arms...

...and damn if that picture didn’t cause something else to arise. Dean looked down at the offending body part and seriously questioned his morality. He had been feeling concern for his friend and somehow that lead to arousal. “What is your fucking problem?” he muttered to himself. He finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, desperately trying to think of something else, like vampires, baseball, Sam having sex with Ruby….

His attempts at distraction were half-hearted at best, and when he no longer had an excuse to be in the shower, he finally gripped his erection. He briefly contemplated an old tried-and-true fantasy of his, that of a very busty brunette crawling towards him on a bed, but his stupid brain immediately replaced her with Cas walking towards him instead. As he began stroking, slowly at first then speeding up incrementally, he pictured Cas sliding off his trenchcoat followed by the suit coat. Dean closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the tiles of the shower stall, fully immersed in the fantasy. He could see himself approaching Cas and grabbing him by his messy tie, pulling him up into a passionate kiss. He let his hands slide down Cas’ torso and pulled the white dress shirt out of his pants, then began to unbutton it slowly.

Dean didn’t get much farther than that because as he pictured Cas whining into his mouth, he came violently against the tiles. Dean’s eyes flew open as he stroked himself through the orgasm, panting. He methodically washed down the tiles with the shower spray and shut off the water. As he dried himself off, he began to feel horrified for jerking off to images of his best friend...the same best friend who was sitting right outside the bathroom door.

Dean chose to file this incident into the recesses of his brain that he wouldn’t revisit. He tried to ignore the fact that he had cum much sooner and harder than he could ever remember. He dressed hastily and took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door.

Cas was sitting in the exact same position as before Dean had gone into the bathroom. He was seemingly staring at the wall, unmoving. “Uh, Cas? You okay there, buddy?” Dean asked.

Cas looked at Dean and nodded. “Yes, Dean. I’m merely ruminating on our circumstances.”

“Um...right then. Carry on.” Dean shoved his dirty clothes into his duffel, placing it on the floor, and pulled the offensive bedspread off. He pulled back the sheets on the left side of the bed and climbed in. He grabbed the TV remote, turned the television on, and began randomly channel surfing. He looked over at Cas to see that while the angel hadn’t moved, he was now looking at the TV screen.

“Are you just going to sit there all night?” Dean asked. 

“Yes. I’ll watch over you,” Cas said quietly.

Normally that sentiment gave Dean the creeps, but this time, it was soothing. And while he knew that he would probably regret this in the morning, he really didn’t like seeing Cas sitting in that uncomfortable chair...and who was he kidding, he was definitely a masochist at times. “Cas, come up here.”

Cas turned and looked at him, tilting his head, but didn’t say anything. Dean sighed and said, “Take off your trench, suit coat, and shoes, and come sit up here with me. There’s no point in sitting in that stupid chair all night.” 

Cas still looked confused, but also a little pleased, and he began to remove the aforementioned articles of clothing. Dean forced himself to look away as it was too reminiscent of his fantasy. As Cas silently claimed the right side of the bed, Dean settled on a rerun of “M*A*S*H”. Dean set the remote down, placed a pillow behind his back, and leaned against it, slouching ever so slightly. Cas watched him and mimicked his actions.

The two of them watched the TV in a comfortable silence. Cas was aware of Dean’s every breath, as well as how little space was actually between them. He noticed when Dean’s breathing evened out, so he wasn’t terribly surprised when Dean slid down his pillow ever so slightly. What did surprise him was when Dean’s head found his shoulder. Cas felt himself stiffen at first, but then forced himself to relax. He wondered if he should wake Dean up, or try to shift Dean to rest fully on his pillow, as he knew the man would be mortified to wake up in that fashion.

Cas craned his neck to look down at Dean and found himself overwhelmed by the look of peace and contentment on Dean’s face. Cas decided that it might be worth the awkwardness in the morning to indulge himself tonight. He subtly shifted so that Dean’s head fell onto his chest and he was able to sling an arm around Dean’s shoulders. Dean unconsciously rolled into Cas’ side, throwing an arm over Cas’ midsection. 

This almost felt as though he was cradling Dean’s soul in his arms, and Cas was positively pulsating with affection for this man. He indulged himself just a bit more and pressed a soft kiss into Dean’s hair, a smile breaking across his face. He then angled his head so it was gently resting on top of Dean’s and closed his eyes, feeling happier than he could ever remember.

________________________________________________________________

Dean woke the next morning, feeling warm and content. He found that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way, and began to wonder how much sleep he’d managed to get. He patted his pillow and was even more surprised to find that it was solid--he knew that the motel pillows weren’t the best, but he definitely recalled it being softer than this.

He slowly became aware of the warm weight on his head, and the fact that said pillow was moving. He allowed his eyes to focus and realized that the white he was seeing wasn’t from a pillow case, but rather from a white dress shirt. He felt his eyes go wide as he realized the implications of that.

His first instinct was to fling himself away from Cas and jump out of the bed, but the weight on top of his head was curious. A couple of seconds later a snuffling noise emerged from above, and Dean realized that Cas had fallen asleep with his head on top of Dean’s. Knowing that there was no way of moving without waking Cas, Dean opted to stay still for the time being, grateful that at least he wasn’t sporting morning wood.

He was on the verge of falling back to sleep when he remembered that Cas doesn’t sleep.

“Cas?” Dean asked quietly. He removed his arm from where it was still slung around Cas’ waist, trying not to wonder how that had happened, and used his hand to gently shake the angel. “Cas? Wake up.”

Cas stirred and lifted his head off of Dean’s, and Dean scrambled out from under Cas’ arm. Dean tried to be subtle about it but knew he’d failed when a look of disappointment spread across Cas’ face. He felt even worse when Cas said, “Good morning, Dean. I apologize for falling asleep on top of you. I know that you prefer it when I respect your personal space.”

Shit. “Cas...it’s...don’t worry about it. I was really comfortable, actually. I’m more worried about the fact that you fell asleep. Are you okay?”

Cas looked pensive for a moment or two before answering. “Yes, I believe so. I do not feel hunger or an urge to urinate, so perhaps it was just rest that I required.” Cas pulled himself out of bed and stretched, giving Dean a look. “Shouldn’t we be leaving?”

“Uh, yes! Right,” Dean muttered. He glanced at his phone and saw that it was 8 AM. If they left by 9, that would put them in the Jericho area by 10:00 or 11:00 PM--perfect time to start looking for the Woman in White.

_________________________________________________________________  
Dean and Cas had just crossed over the Utah-Nevada border when Dean’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket but didn’t recognize the number, so he handed it to Cas and asked Cas to answer, putting the call on speakerphone. 

“Yeah?” Dean said after Cas had obliged.

“Is this Dean Winchester?” a woman’s voice asked. She sounded panicked but spoke clearly.

“Sure is. Who’s this?”

“I don’t know if you remember me...my name is Corey Silver. You helped me a few years ago with my husband, Andrew?” 

Dean had to think for a few moments, and he was almost there, then Corey said, “Eight-ten?”

“Oh! Right! Your husband died in a car accident--the electric pole. Right?” Dean said, realizing belatedly that he could have been more tactful.

“Yes,” Corey said quietly.

“Er...sorry...what can I do for you, Mrs. Silver?”

“He’s back,” she whispered.

Dean looked at Cas, knowing Cas’ anxiety was mirrored in his own face. “What do you mean?” Dean said slowly, hoping it wasn’t what he thought.

“The emails he was sending before he started killing those kids...they’re coming again. It’s him.”

Shit.

“Mrs. Silver? Where are you right now?” Dean asked.

“I’m at work. I’m afraid to go home.”

“Ok, yeah, don’t do that. When you’re done with work for the day, check into a hotel, ok? And no wi-fi. I’m going to have to call you back, but I promise, I’m going to help you out, all right?”

“All right, Dean. Thank you,” Corey said softly, a click signalling that she had hung up.

Cas looked on as Dean signalled and pulled over onto the shoulder, then held a hand out for his phone. A handful of phone calls and ten minutes later, Dean had sent Bobby and Donna out to Spencer, Iowa, to look into the return of Andrew Silver. Dean called Corey back to let her know that people would be arriving to help.

Once Dean had resumed driving, Cas commented, “You’re very good at that, you know.”

“What?”

“Comforting people, dispatching, multi-tasking…”

Dean shrugged. “Comes with the territory,” he said nonchalantly, but a pink tinge to his cheeks hinted that he was pleased.

The rest of the drive passed uneventfully and Dean found the stretch of highway near Jericho that Constance Welch, the Woman in White, had favored. It was nearing 11 PM when Dean pulled off to the side of the road and turned to Cas, saying, “Okay, so last time we did this, she went after Sam, which made sense because he was in a relationship and she probably thought she could get him to cheat on Jessica. Neither one of us is romantically involved, but I’m banking on her recognizing me and going after me anyway.”

Cas frowned at that. “Why are you always the bait when it’s just the two of us?” he asked.

Dean smiled. “Because I’m better looking.”

Cas groaned, even if he did think Dean was correct about that. “What should I do?”

Dean looked in the backseat, then looked back at Cas. “Would you be ok with laying on the floor back there? I was thinking we could hide you until she’s in the car, then surprise her with an angel blade or two...then if need be, you can smite her.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cas said, opening his door and getting out of the car. He took the opportunity to stretch his arms above his head and let his wings extend briefly before climbing into the backseat and compressing himself into the floor. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was manageable.

“You can sit up for now, just hunch down when we see her,” Dean said, shooting Cas an apologetic look. Cas nodded and sat on the edge of the back seat as Dean steered back onto the road.

They had to drive the same stretch of road five times before Dean finally spotted her. Cas immediately flattened himself on the floor while Dean pulled up alongside the translucent woman and called out the open window, “Hey, hon, you need a ride?”

Constance turned and her ghastly eyes went wide upon seeing Dean. Instantly she was in the passenger seat, emitting an unearthly scream. Dean was prepared for this and jammed an angel blade under her chin, much in the same place where he’d impaled Zachariah all of those years ago. Constance stopped screaming to gape at him, but then her mouth twisted into an ugly grin.

“Um, Cas…” Dean managed to choke out before Constance sunk her blood red fingernails into his chest. Cas leaned forward and jammed his blade into the side of her neck to little effect. “Cas!” Dean cried as Constance began to drag her nails more deeply into Dean’s torso. Blood was running down his plaid overshirt in rivulets.

Cas felt panic grip him, but forced it down and focused on gathering his grace into a single point. He then placed his palm on Constance’s smoky forehead and smote her, forcing her to dissolve with a flash of light and a loud pop. Dean had managed to close his eyes but was still bleeding profusely. Though he was exhausted, Cas pooled whatever was left and healed Dean’s wounds, even though he could hear Dean protesting. As soon as Cas saw that the blood had stopped flowing, everything went black.

“Shit! Cas!” Dean yelled. He hurled himself out of the car, flung open the back door, and awkwardly landed in the backseat where Cas was slumped at an odd angle. Dean wrapped one arm around Cas’ shoulders and pressed the other hand to the angel’s chest, gently pushing the man back against the seat cushion. Seeing as though there wasn’t a pattern of burnt out wings and Cas seemed to be breathing evenly, Dean figured he had just passed out. He decided to lay Cas down across the back seat and drive to the nearest motel. He sent Sam a quick text first, one that just read, “Two angel blades didn’t work. SMITE.” 

As luck would have it, Dean found a motel after driving for 10 minutes. He checked into a room with only one queen bed, finding that he really did want to share a bed with Cas again--he could always say that it was the easiest way to keep an eye on the angel. He propped the room’s door open with his duffel bag and after checking to make sure no one was watching, he carried Cas into the room bridal-style. As he struggled to pull down the covers with one hand while holding onto Cas with the other, he chastised himself for not having more forethought, but eventually he was able to put Cas down. He tugged off Cas’ shoes and wrestled with him to get his trench coat off. 

Finally, Dean settled into bed next to Cas in a t-shirt and boxers, exhausted and worried. Once Dean was finally comfortable, Cas rolled into Dean’s side, resting his hand on Dean’s freshly-healed chest. Dean smiled and whispered, “Good night, Cas,” as he slid his arm around Cas’ shoulders and drifted into a dreamless sleep.


	6. Killer Clown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Jack track down John Wayne Gacy's ghost.

A few minutes after Dean and Cas had driven off towards Jericho, Sam and Jack found themselves in the bunker’s garage, loading one of the generic vehicles the boys kept for this very purpose. “You know,” Jack said as he slammed the trunk lid closed, “I could just fly us there.”

Sam considered for a moment before answering. That option did have its merits, but he was honestly looking forward to the 10+ hour drive to clear his head and start reestablishing a relationship with Jack. “Thanks, but I think I would rather drive,” Sam replied with a smile. Jack smiled back and climbed into the passenger seat.

Sam considered making a pit stop in Cedar Rapids, even if it would be a slight detour north of I-80, to interview the soccer mom who had seen Gacy. However, knowing that it probably wouldn’t give them any additional information, he decided to forego it.

“So, Jack,” Sam said after an hour or two of silence. “How did you know how the gun works?” It was something that had been nagging at him since Jack told them about his plan to earn back their trust. If they hadn’t been dealing with so much other information, Sam’s certain that Dean would have said something immediately.

“Billie told me.”

“Does this have to do with that plan of hers?” Sam asked carefully. He was extremely curious as to what the plan entailed, but he knew that everyone should hear it at the same time.

“Yes.”

Sam smiled at the monosyllabic answer and glanced over at Jack. He didn’t look angry or frustrated, but more like his old self, before Lucifer had stripped him of his grace. Sam wasn’t sure if that was an act or not, but decided that it ultimately didn’t matter. Jack was alive and here.

The rest of the car ride passed rather uneventfully with only a couple of stops for gas and food. It was nearly 11:00 at night when they reached the near west suburbs of Chicago. Sam decided to look for a motel near O’Hare, figuring they would be relatively cheap and close to Gacy’s hunting ground. He settled on a Motel 6 in nearby Schiller Park, which was actually one of the nicer motels he’d stayed in.

The next morning, Sam and Jack drove the short distance to 8213 W Summerdale Ave in Norwood Park (okay, technically it was Chicago, Norwood Park is just a township within the city limits. Dean won that round, but no way was Sam going to tell him that.). Sam parked across the street from the house that stood there and shut off the engine. 

“Why are we here?” Jack asked.

“Well...Gacy hid 25 of his victims’ bodies in the crawl space of his house and 1 in the garage at this address...he also buried three more in his yard.”

Jack wrinkled his nose. “And someone lives there now?”

Sam had to smile at that. “No, Gacy’s house was bull-dozed. This is a new house. Still, I thought maybe Gacy would be drawn back to the land.”

Jack still didn’t look convinced that someone would be sane enough to live there, but shrugged nevertheless. The two sat in the car until mid-afternoon, when Sam decided that there could be another location to scope out. He pulled out his phone and did some quick research before sharing the news with Jack.

“Gacy’s last four victims were found in the Des Plaines River,” Sam quietly told Jack. “They were mostly found an hour or so south of here, but...the river is located about two miles west. It’s possible Gacy dumped them here and they floated downstream.”

Jack gave Sam a blank look as if to say, “Yeah, so?”

“Maybe Gacy went back to the dumping ground,” Sam concluded. There was no mention of where Gacy may have dumped the bodies, or even if Sam’s theory was correct, but Sam was getting anxious to go somewhere else. He was concerned that someone would call about a car sitting in front of Gacy’s old residence all day and he would rather avoid the police.

“There are a couple of forest preserves that the river runs through,” Sam continued, looking at a map on his phone. “One of them has a reputation for satan worshipping. I think we should start there.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “Satan worshipping?”

Sam huffed a laugh as he started the car. “Most of the time it’s harmless, but when it’s legitimate and produces dark magic, it can leave an imprint on the land. I’m not sure if that’s what has happened here, but I figure it’s a good enough starting point.”

Jack shrugged but didn’t say anything more as they drove the short distance to Robinson Woods. Sam pulled off of East River Road and onto the enlarged shoulder in front of a large stone that bore the Robinson name. There was no parking lot to speak of, but Sam didn’t see any signs that said he couldn’t park there, so he figured it was fine.

He and Jack got out of the car and armed themselves with angel blades. Sam also tucked a handgun into the waistband of his jeans. He had the other gun in a pocket and patted it reassuringly, hoping that he wouldn’t have occasion to use it. The two started following the path through the trees and the constant hum of traffic began to fade, replaced by the quiet hush of the flowing Des Plaines River.

Sam wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Gacy’s ghost--in his experience, he generally didn’t get this lucky. He and Jack hadn’t exactly been stealthy in their approach, so Gacy was eyeing them with a malevolent grin. Sam suppressed a shudder, remembering just how much he hated clowns.

Within the blink of an eye, Gacy appeared immediately in front of Jack. Acting on instinct, Jack swung his arm up and plunged his angel blade directly into Gacy’s chest. It pierced the ghost where his heart would have been, causing Gacy to emit a piercing shriek before exploding.

Sam looked over at Jack, his hand still clutching his own blade, but shaking a little now. “Is...is he gone?” he asked Jack, wondering if the half-angel would be able to pick up on the ghost’s energy. 

Jack’s face screwed up in a look of concentration for a minute, then relaxed into a smile. “Yes, I believe so.”

Sam felt his hand stop shaking as he looked down at the blade in wonder. “That was…almost too easy,” he said quietly. Jack didn’t have a response to that. 

By silent agreement, the two men walked around the woods until nearly sunset, reassuring themselves that Gacy wasn’t going to reappear. They returned to the motel and opted to stay another night.

Just as Sam was getting ready for bed, he received a text from Dean that said, “Two angel blades didn’t work. SMITE.” Sam stared at the text, open-mouthed, for a minute or two. Did that mean that Gacy wasn’t gone?

“Jack? Are you sure you didn’t sense anything still out there?” Sam asked carefully.

“Yes,” Jack said. “I felt...something dark, but not well-defined, as we walked towards the river. After I stabbed Gacy, the darkness went away. I tried to pick up remnants of it, and while I felt some darkness, it was farther away and it felt different.”

“Different?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Jack said, a hint of frustration in his voice. “It felt more human. It was coming from a different source.”

Sam was starting to think that with being that close to one of the largest cities in America, it was probably only natural that Jack would tune in to humanity’s capacity for evil. “Okay, Jack, I think I get it. Thanks.”

That still didn’t explain why Dean couldn’t kill the Woman in White with an angel blade. He finally texted back, “Did you try stabbing her in the heart?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything written about Gacy is true, except for the bit about Robinson Woods. While his final victims were found in the Des Plaines River, they were found downstream in Will and Grundy Counties. I haven't found anything that suggests if they were left there or further upstream. Based upon Gacy's proximity to Robinson Woods and the reputation that the forest preserve has, I took a creative liberty. That place is rather creepy and I had a rather unforgettable experience there that had a friend and myself running back to the car--and I don't run, I have fricking asthma. At any rate, I meant no disrespect to any of Gacy's victims, may they all rest in peace.


	7. Billie's Big Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All roads lead to the bunker, and Jack tells everyone about Billie's plan.

Dean awoke before Cas did, much in the same position he’d fallen asleep. Once again, Cas’ body heat had lulled him into a peaceful, restful sleep--a fact Dean definitely wasn’t trying to think about. Cas had shifted in his sleep so that his head was fully upon Dean’s shoulder, his face nuzzled into Dean’s neck. 

Dean was able to stretch and reach his phone without disturbing Cas. He saw that it was nearly 10 AM and that he had a text from Sam, asking if they’d tried stabbing the Woman in White in the heart. He was trying to decide how difficult it would be to extricate himself from Cas to go outside and call Sam when he realized that he never checked in with Bobby and Donna.

He typed back a quick, “No,” to Sam, then opened a text to Donna, asking how everything was going. He managed to sit still for about five minutes without any replies before he felt fidgety...plus, he really had to piss, so that wasn’t helping either.

“Dean, if you need to get up, it’s okay,” Cas said quietly, managing to scare the shit out of Dean.

“Jesus!”

Cas lifted his head and gave Dean a smirk. “No, it’s Castiel.”

Dean groaned and hauled himself out of bed as Cas rolled to his own pillow. As he stretched, he looked down at Cas, concern dotting his features. “Are you okay?”

Cas looked thoughtful before answering. “I feel better than I did last night, but worse than yesterday morning.”

“Um...right...look, I really have to piss, then check in with Sam and Bobby. Then maybe you can explain to me what you’re saying, okay?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Awesome.”

Ten minutes later, Dean was sitting at the edge of the bed, willing Donna to pick up her phone while Cas was...using the bathroom? What the fuck? 

“Hello?” Donna’s tired voice came over the line, filling Dean with relief.

“Donna! Hey! How’s...things? Why don’t you answer texts anymore?” Dean’s words tumbled out of him in a rush, making him feel like an idiot.

“Last night was a late night, Dean. I’m sorry I’m not at your every beck and call,” Donna snapped.

“Whoa...Donna...sorry--just worried about you is all. Cas and I ran into trouble using angel blades and I realized that you don’t have an angel with you to smite that bastard.”

Donna sighed. “We got the guy, but it was sheer luck--Bobby managed to get him right in the heart after we’d stabbed him a few times.”

Dammit. Why hadn’t Dean thought of that? He could have easily tried that instead of reducing Cas to...whatever he was now. “Well, good. You guys are ok, though? You’re not hurt?” 

Dean could hear the wry smile in Donna’s voice when she answered. “Nothing worse than usual. We got thrown around a bit, but nothing’s broken.”

Dean finally heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay, okay, good. You two heading back to the bunker today?”

“You betcha.”

“Then I’ll see you there tomorrow--and be careful.”

“Right back atcha.”

As Dean hung up, Cas emerged from the bathroom. “Are Donna and Bobby well?” he asked. 

“Yep,” Dean answered, unwilling to add anything more. He knew he would have to tell Cas the truth about the angel blade, but damn if he didn’t feel like a total asshole about it. “I’m going to try to reach Sam and Jack.”

“All right. I would like to take a shower. Do you happen to have any spare clothing I can wear afterwards?” 

Cas had spoken calmly, but Dean was alarmed. He tried not to show it as he rifled through his duffel, producing a pair of jeans, plain black t-shirt, and socks. “Um. Do you need boxers?”

Head bowed, Cas nodded. Dean scooped out a pair and added it to the pile of clothes, thrusting it into Cas’ hands without another word. “Thank you,” Cas whispered before retreating to the bathroom and closing the door.

Dean refocused his thoughts and called Sam, getting an answer after two rings. “Dean! Are you guys okay?” Sam’s worried voice boomed through the phone.

“Yeah, yeah...well, I am, at least,” Dean answered. Just as he heard the shower water turn on, he began telling Sam the gory details of putting down the Woman in White (leaving out where exactly Cas had slept, of course). He finished with, “How did you know to stab Gacy in the heart?”

“Sheer luck. He appeared right in front of Jack and that was his only move.”

Dean scoffed. “Of course. Well, better late than never, though I don’t know if Cas is going to feel that way.” The shower cut off in the bathroom and Dean decided it was time to end the call, saying, “We’ll talk more about this later. See you tomorrow.” 

A minute or so after Sam had said goodbye, Cas emerged from the bathroom, looking…

Oh SHIT.

Dean was screwed.

Without his trademark trench coat and wearing clothes that were closer to fitting him, it was evident that Cas was, for lack of a better word, ripped. Dean found himself gawking at the fact that Cas had biceps to rival his own and lean, muscular legs that filled out the jeans nicely. His midsection was slimmer than Dean’s, so the jeans hung off his hip bones in a way that was making Dean salivate. Plus, there was something primal about Cas wearing his clothes, something that made Dean feel...possessive.

“Dean? Is something wrong?” Cas’ concerned voice cut through Dean’s haze of desire.

Dean swallowed audibly and choked out, “Nope. Nope. No, everything’s...awesome! Uh...shower! Yep! I….shower. Yes.”

Cas tilted his head, confused beyond speech, and watched as Dean frantically pawed through his duffel to come up with clean clothes. Without another look, Dean practically sprinted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, muttering, “Shit, shit, shit, SHIT,” for five minutes solid.

____________________________________________________________________

After stopping at a diner in town for a deliciously greasy breakfast (during which Cas downed a tall stack of huge pancakes), Dean found himself feeling calm again as he drove Baby back towards the bunker. He wasn’t looking forward to the impending conversation with Cas, but figured he should probably rip off the proverbial Band-Aid and get it over with.

“Cas,” he started, “I’m sorry.”

Dean could see the head tilt out of the corner of his eye, and barreled on before Cas could interrupt him. “Apparently the angel blade would have worked if we’d stabbed the bitch in the heart.”

“How do you know?”

“When we got to the motel last night, I sent Sammy a text warning him to smite Gacy because the blades didn’t work. I didn’t see his reply until this morning asking if we’d tried stabbing her in the heart. That trick worked on Gacy, and when I talked to Donna, she said the same for Andrew Silver.”

“Oh,” Cas said quietly. 

“Cas, I didn’t know, but I should have thought of it. I should have tried it. I am so, so sorry.”

“Dean,” Cas said, his voice firm and angry. “Stop it. You did not know, and she was injuring you. It was a far safer option to smite her than to attempt another strike. I do not regret what happened, and I do not want you to either.”

“But Cas, look what happened! You slept...and showered...and ate...are you human now? Will your grace regenerate?”

Cas was silent for several moments before finally answering, “I honestly do not know. However, have you forgotten that I fell asleep the previous night? This is not all because I expended my grace. It was already happening, gradually, ever since we thought we lost Jack.”

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, anguish evident in his tone. 

“My grace, and my ability to utilize it, was a direct result of my faith in my father. I think it is a safe assumption that after watching him kill Jack, that faith in him was obliterated.”

Dean felt his mouth drop open. He felt like an asshole--here he was, thinking about his own problems, when Cas had actually WATCHED his father murder his adopted son. He felt his eyes start to blur and wisely pulled off onto the shoulder so he could face Cas. When he turned to the angel (ex-angel????), Cas was sitting with his head down, fingers idly playing with the hem of his borrowed shirt. Dean thought he looked utterly small and lost, and it was breaking his heart.

“Cas. What can I do?” he said softly. He’d briefly thought about apologizing again, but after knowing the guy for nearly 11 years, he knew that wasn’t what Cas needed to hear.

When Cas didn’t respond, Dean reached out and placed a gentle hand on his left shoulder. “Please, man, tell me how I can help.”

Cas reached up and grasped Dean’s hand in his own, mirroring an interaction that had occurred between them merely two days earlier. Dean was fighting down the lump in his throat, but when Cas finally raised his head and made eye contact with him, it was with a determined expression rather than a defeated one. “If I do indeed fall completely--become human--which seems to be the most likely outcome, may I stay with you and Sam?”

Dean swallowed, saying, “Of course, Cas. Always. The only reason you couldn’t stay last time was because I couldn’t get my head out of my ass long enough to see that ‘Ezekiel’ was really Gadreel. I should have never gone along with that bullshit request.”

“Dean, it’s all right. I understood. I’m just...apprehensive about being out there alone again.”

“You don’t have to be, Cas. Ever. Your home is with us for as long as you want it to be,” Dean said vehemently.

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand harder before releasing it with a smile on his face. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Dean nodded, then pulled back onto the road, feeling better than he had since he’d woken up with Cas nestled in beside him.

They ended up in the same motel near Green River late in the day. Dean requested a room with one queen bed. After they had both gotten comfortable in t-shirts and boxers, Dean crawled under the covers and held them up for Cas to climb in. Cas stiffly laid down on his back, his head planted firmly on his own pillow, arms folded across his chest. Dean huffed a laugh and tugged at one of Cas’ arms, forcing him to roll onto his side, snug against Dean.

“Are you sure this is all right, Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean said. 

Cas smiled and burrowed into Dean, resting his head on Dean’s chest and his hand on Dean’s solar plexus. “Good night, Dean.”

“Good night, Cas,” Dean said with a smile.

Shortly after, Dean noticed that Cas’ breathing had evened out. “Cas? You awake?” he whispered. When he didn’t receive a response, he said, “I’m going to hold on to you, Cas. Always.” He drifted off to sleep himself a few minutes later.

_________________________________________________________________

Dean and Cas were awake and back on the road as the sun rose, so they arrived back at the bunker a little after 8 PM (with some pit stops and pie stops, of course). When they walked into the library they were greeted with a full house--Rowena and Charlie were still there, but they had been joined by Bobby, Donna, Jody, Claire, Jack, and Sam.

After a chorus of greetings, Jody explained that she had finally taken some vacation days (she *only* had about a month saved up) and came with Claire because it made more sense to have a centralized base of operations. She also chastised Dean for not telling her when she’d called that Jack was back and in one piece, for which Dean made amends, saying there hadn’t been time. Donna said something to the same effect, and despite the pall that should have been hanging over everyone, the gathering seemed downright festive.

Sam ran out to pick up pizza and beer while Donna and Dean swapped stories. Cas sat and quietly talked with Charlie and Rowena, eager to discover if they had made any progress. Charlie had given up on Dean’s assignment and was focusing on a program that would search 911 calls for certain keywords and send an alert to everyone’s cell phone, which Dean and Cas deemed to be downright genius. For her part, Rowena had located a spell which could make an object holding several hundreds of souls more stable for a longer period of time, but would still ultimately combust from its sheer energy.

After all of the pizzas (even Sam’s gross “Veggie Lovers” crap) were devoured and the beers drunk, the mood turned more somber.

“Would now be a good time to tell everyone about Billie’s plan?” Jack asked, his face lighting up. No one really wanted to talk about it, but they could tell how desperate he was to contribute, so they all nodded their assent.

“Sam, could you show everyone the gun?” Jack inquired. Sam pulled it out of his pocket and held it up. “Does everyone know how this works?” Donna, Bobby, Jody, and Claire all shook their heads. Jack continued with, “It’s a rather complex equation, but simply put, whatever happens to the person you shoot will happen to you. So, if you kill someone or something, you will also die.” Nearly everyone flinched at that, but Jack continued, “The good news is that this will kill anything...even Chuck.”

Dean held up a hand to interrupt Jack. “Jack, that’s not going to work. If we kill Chuck, we end the world. The last time we were up against that choice, we thought by taking out his sister Amara, it would balance out the light and the dark. According to Amara, not even that would work. Everything would just cease to exist.”

Jack didn’t look deterred. “Billie said that she would worry about that. All we are responsible for is choosing someone who’s willing to make the sacrifice. That person calls for her and she’ll deliver Chuck.”

Jack’s words were met with stunned silence. He sat back in his seat, looking pleased with himself for fully delivering the message. He was prepared to be the one to make the sacrifice, but he was also willing to defer to Sam, Dean, and Cas.

Unsurprisingly, Dean was the first to speak. “No,” he said firmly and in a tone that brooked no argument.

Naturally, that convinced Cas to argue with him. “Dean, think about it. If Billie knows a way of getting rid of Chuck without the cessation of all existence--it could undo so much of this damage. There’s the potential for peace.”

“I said no, Cas.”

“Dean, Billie said this is what we need to do,” Sam said quietly. Sam wasn’t sure whether or not he was for the plan, but he didn’t think it was right that Dean decided for everyone else, either.

“And as Cas reminded us, Billie also said that the only way to get rid of Michael was to stick me in a fucking box!” Dean yelled.

No one had a rebuttal for that.

“Look,” Dean continued in a calmer voice, “we know what kills these things now. There’s more hunters out there, people that we can bring in and train. We can do this without someone having to kill themselves.”

“What do we do when Chuck throws something else at us? Something we can’t kill?” Charlie asked, but more out of fear than anger.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Dean replied. “This ‘plan’ is always there--but it’s a last resort, you hear me?”

Donna, Jody, Rowena, Claire, and Charlie seemed to be on board with Dean. Any one of them would be willing to sacrifice themselves if need be, but none of them wanted to watch anyone else in that room actually do it. Bobby shrugged, and while Sam and Jack nodded, they both looked wary. Cas just stared at Dean, which in itself was troubling.

They were spared further discussion when all of their cell phones beeped at once. “Ooh! It’s a 911 call!” Charlie exclaimed, excited to see that her program had worked.

Sam was the first to play the audio file of the call. A woman had been attacked in a cemetery by someone invisible. When she was asked to give an address, she did, along with the name of the cemetery.

To no one’s surprise, it was the same cemetery where this whole debacle began.


	8. Deja Vu All Over Again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showdown in the cemetery, redux.

It was quickly decided that whatever awaited the hunters in the cemetery, it could wait until the next day. Dean protested at first, itching to prove that they didn’t need Billie’s plan, but a sharp glance from Sam made him stop.

“Do you guys have a couch I can crash on?” Claire asked Sam. “I was using Castiel’s room, but now that you guys are back…”

“You may keep using it, Claire,” Cas said quietly. “I don’t need to sleep.” He shot Dean a look that clearly indicated yes, he did need to sleep, as long as Dean was beside him.

“But...I thought...aren’t you sleeping now?” Sam asked.

“Looks like he’s feeling better!” Dean said, inwardly cringing at how enthusiastic he sounded.

“If you’re sure it’s all right…” Claire said, looking hesitantly among the three men. 

“Of course,” Cas said.

Claire flashed him a smile and thanked him before heading off to bed. Sam merely shrugged and wished Dean and Cas a good night, leaving the two of them alone in the library.

Dean waited until he heard eight doors close before leading Cas down to his room, quietly shutting the door behind them. Cas noted his caution and whispered, “Dean? Are you sure this is amenable to you? I can sleep on the couch in the lounge.”

“It’s fine, Cas. I don’t really care if anyone knows, I just don’t want to deal with the stupid questions right now.” Dean began pulling his flannel over shirt off, followed by his boots, socks, and jeans. He settled into bed and looked at Cas, who was still awkwardly standing close to the door. “Dude, come on. You look beat.”

Cas finally relented and removed his jeans, socks, and shoes, settling on the edge of the bed, as far away from Dean as he could get. “Is this acceptable? Do you have enough room?”

“Christ, Cas, quit acting like that. Come here,” Dean grumbled, grasping Cas’ arm and pulling him closer. Cas allowed himself to be moved into a more comfortable position at Dean’s side, quietly revelling in the feeling of Dean’s skin sliding against his own. As was becoming habit, Dean threw an arm over Cas’ shoulders, pulling Cas close enough so that he could lay his head on Dean’s upper chest. “Good night, Cas,” Dean whispered.

“Good night, Dean.”

Cas waited until Dean’s breathing had evened out. The previous night, Dean had thought that Cas was asleep when he’d whispered to him, but Cas had heard it. At this point, Cas wasn’t entirely sure if he was hoping Dean was still awake or not, but he couldn’t help whispering, “I’m holding on to you, too, Dean.”

_______________________________________________________________

Dean was the first one awake in the bunker the next morning. He gingerly rolled Cas off of him and pulled the covers up over the sleeping angel before heading to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth, among other...activities. So sue him, sleeping with a quasi-celestial being as smoking hot as Cas was definitely going to lead to morning wood at some point.

By the time he was finished in the shower and leaving the bathroom, he could hear Sam stirring in his room. He headed up to the kitchen to start brewing mass quantities of coffee, and decided that if anyone saw Cas coming out of his room, he could claim that he let Cas sleep there while he took the couch.

One by one the bunker’s occupants filtered into the kitchen, grabbing coffee and a plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausage that Dean had cooked. No one said a word about seeing Cas come out of Dean’s room, or was giving them suggestive looks, so Dean figured he was off the hook. 

After breakfast had been devoured and cleaned up, everyone sat in a comfortable silence, sipping coffee. Dean finally broke it by asking, “So, what’s the plan?”

All eyes were on him with no one volunteering any answers. “What do you think we should do?” Sam finally said after Dean had tried to stare a few of them down.

“Seriously? You’re leaving this up to me?”

“You’re the one in charge, Boss,” Bobby grunted. “At least tell us what you’re thinking and we’ll tell you if you’re full of it or not.”

Dean had to smirk at that. He had already started planning last night, and further hashing things in his mind while he cooked breakfast. “All right...so, I was thinking maybe Jack could fly me there so we can get a quick look at what we’re dealing with, at least in terms of numbers.”

Sam and Cas immediately began to grumble, so Dean held out his hands. “Just a QUICK LOOK. I’m not stupid enough to pick a fight with only two of us there. I just want to know what we’re walking into.”

“All right, and after that?” Jody asked.

“Depending on the numbers, we split up, probably into two groups. One group drives in, the other flies in with Jack, and we hit them from two different directions. Hit ‘em in the heart with angel blades.” At this point he focused on Rowena, saying, “How about that spell to enhance an object’s stability? Is it doable?”

“Yes, thankfully, you had all of the ingredients here already. I have them gathered in my room,” she replied, her face impassive. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we can use an object as a fall-back plan in case we get overwhelmed. How much time are we talking about with that spell?”

“An hour, tops.”

Dean turned to Jack. “Would that give you long enough to take this object someplace safe where it can explode? Someplace uninhabited?”

Jack thought for a moment. There were a few places on Earth he could take it, but without knowing the extent of the explosion, the damage to the environment could be catastrophic. An hour should be long enough to get him beyond Earth’s atmosphere, however--that idea had potential. “Yes,” he finally said.

“Then that’s my plan. Comments? Suggestions? Compliments?”

Cas found himself smiling ever so slightly as he looked around at the rest of the group. He thought it was a decent plan, which probably meant it would all go to shit. Everyone else seemed to consider it for a few moments, but no one spoke up against it.

Dean looked pleasantly surprised, but decided to roll with it. “Okay then. Jack and I will pop over there. Rowena, how much time do you need to cast the spell?”

“About ten minutes,” she answered.

“Perfect. You can fly over with Jack later so even if something goes wrong, you’ll still have time. The rest of you, get your angel blades and be ready to go.”

Dean made his way over to Jack, one hand on the blade he’d tucked in his jeans sometime during breakfast.

“Just...be careful, guys, all right?” Sam said quietly. “No need to be a hero.”

“We’ll be fine, Sam,” Jack said with a broad smile. “Quick look.”

Dean placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder and with a flap of wings, they were both gone. Cas and Sam exchanged a look before Cas said, “I’m sure they’ll be fine, Sam.” Sam merely nodded in reply before leaving the kitchen to start packing the Impala. Cas found that he was desperately trying to believe his own words.

Cas didn’t have anything he needed to pack, so he sat down on one of the long benches in the kitchen. Donna wandered over to him and sat next to him, not saying anything, but offering a sympathetic look. Cas was opening his mouth to ask if she was all right when Jack and Dean fluttered back into the kitchen, looking a bit windblown but uninjured.

“So! There’s…there’s a lot of assholes there,” Dean said, sounding half nervous, half excited. “Not nearly as many as the last time we were there, but I would estimate about...40% of that?”

Cas felt his mouth fall open. “Dean, that’s...untenable. We can’t possibly eliminate that many.”

“Not with that attitude,” Bobby muttered. Dean threw the man a grin before turning back to Cas.

“Yeah, Cas, I know, the numbers suck. So we’ll go, and we’ll do the best we can, and if we have to use an object to bind them, then we will.” 

Cas didn’t have a response to that. He knew Dean was right, so he simply nodded. He looked around at the others and saw a similar look of grim determination on their faces. 

Sam walked back into the kitchen and took in the mood, saying, “That bad, huh?”

Dean just shrugged, to which Sam said, “Whatever. How are we splitting up?”

It was decided that Dean would drive (obviously) with Cas (also obviously--there was no way Cas was letting Dean out of his sight, and everyone else there seemed to understand this), Jody, Charlie, and Bobby. It would be a tight fit in the Impala, but thankfully the drive would only be about 30 minutes. Once they were close to the cemetery, Cas was to call Sam, who would then fly over with Jack, Claire, Rowena, and Donna.

Cas didn’t even have to call “Shotgun”, the others simply deferred to him and let him ride up front with Dean. The drive was a quiet one, but the tension gradually increased the closer they got to the cemetery. Finally Dean said softly, “Cas, make the call.”

Cas was hanging up just as Dean pulled up next to the truck that Cas had abandoned a few short days before. Jody whistled from behind Dean and Bobby cursed while Charlie remained silent.

The cemetery was teeming with disheveled souls, murder in their lifeless eyes. Before he could start questioning his sanity, Dean said, “Let’s go,” and was out the door, blade drawn, without hesitation. As he charged the nearest soul, he heard the other doors fly open and knew his family was behind him.

On the opposite side of the cemetery, Jack and the others had landed and immediately began fighting. Sam, Claire, and Donna were stabbing and slashing at anything within reach; Jack was smiting with both hands, finding it faster than stabbing, and Rowena was shrieking, “Abi!” repeatedly to freeze the lumbering hulks so one of the others could stab them easily. It was a good system, and they were working well together, but...the damn things just kept coming.

Dean, Cas, and Bobby stood in a wedge shape, slashing and stabbing. Anything that got past them was swiftly executed by Jody or Charlie. Again, it was a good system, but they were becoming physically exhausted. After about twenty minutes of non-stop slashing and slowly moving forward, Dean could finally spot Sam’s head above the scrabbling horde.

Sam was exhausted. All of his muscles were screaming and sweat was pouring off of him. The others looked to be in a similar state. He was still making headway, but he didn’t think he could sustain it for much longer. He knew that this whole operation was technically Dean’s, but he didn’t really think Dean would begrudge him for throwing in the towel. Sam turned to Rowena and simply nodded, their agreed-upon signal.

Rowena reached into a concealed pocket of her dress and pulled out a light blue crystal the size of a golf ball. No one knew where she found it, nor did anyone particularly care. She threw it into the air, screaming, “Haggis!”

The crystal hovered in the air, acting like the hellspawn vacuum that it was. Everyone collapsed in relief except Rowena and Jack, who both kept a close eye on the crystal. Once the remaining souls had been absorbed, the crystal tumbled into Rowena’s hands. She passed it to Jack, reminding him that he only had an hour at most. He nodded gravely and was gone.

Slowly, the two groups of hunters came together roughly in the middle, a couple of them still panting. Sam shot a guilty look at Dean who simply shook his head. “It’s ok, Sammy,” he choked out. “I would have made the same call.”

Everyone headed back towards the bunker, this time with room to spare, because in addition to Cas’ truck, the junker Sam had left was there as well. Dean was driving Jody, Claire, and Donna back when Claire asked quietly, “Do you think Jack is safe?”

Dean had been wondering the same thing himself, but he was surprised to discover that he had faith in the kid. He hadn’t had much of a chance to talk with Jack since his miraculous return, but Sam had seemed pleased with the outcome of the Gacy case. Jack had seemed a lot more like his old self the previous night when they were all enjoying pizza, and Dean found himself relaxing in his presence. Jack never told him where he was planning to take the crystal, but Dean found he was okay with that, as long as both he and the rest of the world were safe. “Yeah,” Dean said thoughtfully. “I’m sure he’s fine.” He flicked his gaze up to the rearview mirror where he could see Cas, driving his truck with Charlie next to him and felt himself smile. 

“Donna?” Jody said, concern lacing her voice. Dean frowned, looking at the women in his rearview mirror while Claire turned around in the front seat. “Donna, what’s wrong?”

Donna was staring straight ahead, unblinking, with a hand to her chest. “I feel...pain,” she said quietly before her eyes slammed shut and she pitched sideways.

“Donna!” Dean yelled. He jerked the car onto the shoulder and slammed it into Park, running around the front of the car to get to Donna on the passenger side. Dean heard the rocks on the shoulder crunching beneath the tires of Cas’ truck as he pulled in behind the Impala but he didn’t spare it a glance.

Dean threw the door open and hauled Donna outside and onto the ground. He could hear Claire and Jody asking questions in the background. While Dean desperately searched for a pulse, he put his face next to Donna’s nose and mouth, trying to determine if she was breathing. 

Cas was crouched down on the road next to him in an instant, but he wisely didn’t say anything. “Cas,” Dean said, desperation in his voice, “she’s not breathing. I can’t find a pulse.”

Jody overheard him and called 911. Though he knew it was probably futile, Cas closed his eyes and pressed two fingers to Donna’s forehead. He struggled desperately to locate any shreds of his grace left. He found something, but it simply wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said around the lump in his throat.

Dean said nothing, but pushed Cas out of the way. At first Cas thought it was out of anger, but once Dean started CPR, he understood. Fifteen minutes later when an ambulance arrived, Dean was desperately still doing chest compressions, sweat and tears mingling on this face.

The paramedics tried to revive her to no avail while the others watched on in silent horror. At one point, Dean’s phone buzzed with a text from Sam--he had been in the lead and was home, wondering where everyone else was. Jack was back as well, the soul bomb safely detonated. Dean didn’t have the ability to answer him, so he passed the phone to Cas.

Cas simply responded, “We lost Donna.”

__________________________________________________________________

“A heart attack. She fought fucking vampires, the spawn of Hell, and that’s what got her? A fucking heart attack?” Dean was back at the bunker, well into his third (or was it fourth?) large tumbler of whiskey, trying to make sense of what had happened. Sam was sitting quietly, unable to answer Dean’s questions, just like he hadn’t been able to the first two times.

It was hours later and almost everyone had gone to bed. After Sam had received Cas’ cryptic text, he’d called and received a few more details, including where they all were. Sam picked out one of the old beauties in the garage, as close as he could get to a hearse, and showed up at the side of the road. The paramedics were rightfully skeptical of him, but Sam managed to convince them that he was a legitimate mortician, promising them that he had a doctor on staff who could confirm the death and sign a death certificate.

Donna was brought back to the bunker and everyone helped build her pyre on the hill behind the property--the same hill where Jack had struck an agreement with Billie. They gave her a hunter’s send-off in silence, and Dean stayed behind, waiting until the last of the flames sputtered out. Cas had waited for him, a good 50 yards away, a silent sentinel.

Dean wasn’t an idiot. Maybe the souls hadn’t directly killed Donna, but it was his hare-brained scheme that had lead to her death. He hadn’t seriously entertained Billie’s plan, and now someone else had paid the price. Who else would he send to their deaths? Jody? Claire? Cas? Sammy? Nope. This had to end tonight.

So Dean was sitting in his kitchen, sharing whiskey with Sammy. He was going to wait until Sammy went to bed and retrieve the gun from his room. Then he was going to leave the bunker and give Billie a call. In his heart, he really wanted to give Cas one last hug, or maybe finally put everything he was feeling into words, but he knew he would end up giving away his intentions. Cas would try to stop him, and he couldn’t have that, because he had to fix this.

“Hey Dean, I’ll be right back,” Sam said quietly, and was gone in the next instant.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, blinking in confusion at Sam’s disappearing act. “Guess I better sober up before I make that damn call.”

Sam wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Dean was planning. What he didn’t know was how he was going to stop Dean. He knew exactly why Dean was blaming himself for Donna’s death even if no one else faulted him, because Sam knew that he would feel the exact same way.

He had stepped out of the kitchen to get Cas. He figured that between the two of them, they could talk Dean out of his crippling guilt and bad ideas. He walked into the War Room and was surprised to hear footsteps on the stairs leading to the front door.

“Cas? Going somewhere?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so sorry that I killed Donna! I didn't really want to, but let's all be honest here--Dean only does drastic shit when someone he cares about dies. I wanted to pick a relatively minor character and there was no way I was killing another version of Charlie. I'm sorry! I swear, I'm going to make it up to you!


	9. The One You've Been Waiting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean FINALLY clear the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut.

Cas wasn’t an idiot. He deduced what Dean was planning as he’d stood and watched Donna’s pyre burn to nothing.

While Dean was imbibing liquid courage in the kitchen, Cas paced around Dean’s room. Claire was still sleeping in his own room--by silent agreement, the room Donna had been using remained empty. Cas ran his fingers over Dean’s desk, chair, and bed, trying to capture the man’s essence before he left. For Cas had realized that despite the last few nights, despite Dean telling him that he was holding on to Cas, Dean would be able to live without him. Cas couldn’t live without Dean. He didn’t have the means to retrieve Dean’s soul, or to restore Dean’s body to life, and he didn’t think Jack would be able to do it either.

So Cas was determined to take Dean’s place. The Winchesters had sacrificed too much for the world, and it wasn’t right to ask them to do so yet again. Cas finally made his way to the door and took one last look at the room, etching its contents into his memory.

He closed Dean’s door quietly and made his way over to Sam’s room. The door stood open and the room was dark. Cas walked in, shut the door behind him, and used the flashlight on his cell phone for illumination. He didn’t have to look very long, for much like Dean had years ago with the Colt, Sam had stashed the gun under his pillow. Cas handled it carefully, wondering at its power, but tucked it into the waistband of his jeans and left Sam’s room.

He had quietly made his way up to the War Room and started up the stairs when he heard Sam asking, “Cas? Going somewhere?”

Cas contemplated making a run for it. Even with his diminished grace, he was still faster than Sam. The truth was, he didn’t really want to do this, didn’t really want to leave the comforts of the bunker and Dean. He had felt a flicker of relief when he’d heard Sam’s voice, which was quickly replaced with shame. He slowly turned towards Sam, a sheepish look gracing his features.

“Cas,” Sam said softly. “Give me the gun.”

Again, Cas thought about running, about arguing, about striking Sam so he could get away. He just didn’t have it in him. He walked down the stairs to Sam, pulling the gun out as he went. When he reached Sam near the War Room table, he placed it into Sam’s open palm and heaved himself into a chair, defeated.

Sam tucked the gun into his jeans and took the chair next to Cas, his face sympathetic. “Cas, what were you thinking?” he asked gently. Sam wasn’t angry, and he was fairly certain he knew the answer.

“I was thinking that it was the only way to stop Dean.”

Sam sighed. “I figured as much. Did you think about talking to him first?”

Cas finally made eye contact with Sam at this point. “Do you honestly think he’ll listen?”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Maybe not, but it’s worth a try. Cas, do you even know what it would have done to Dean if you’d gone through with it?”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Sam in confusion, which Sam took to mean “no”. 

“It would have killed him, Cas.”

Sam got the full head-tilt and squint now. “Sam, I know Dean cares about me, but I believe you’re exaggerating.”

Sam shook his head. “You didn’t see what happened the last time we thought we lost you. He lost his faith, his ability to function. Hell, he even killed himself! He claimed it was for the case, but it took forever to get him back, and when he did come back--he wasn’t happy about it.”

Cas was stunned speechless. All he could do was stare at Sam, eyes wide.

Sam continued, “There may have been a time when he’d do anything to keep me alive, but now, that goes for you, too. If you’re gone, I don’t think I’m going to be enough to keep him going.”

Cas finally found his voice. “That’s absurd. You’re his brother.”

“Yes, I am. But he loves you, Cas.”

“He loves me as a brother, I know. He’s said as much,” Cas tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone when he said this, but didn’t succeed.

Sam gave him such a sympathetic look that Cas wanted to scream. He didn’t need the man’s pity right now. But Sam’s words shocked him. “No, Cas. He’s IN love with you.”

Cas just gaped at him as he continued. “I’m his actual brother, and if he looked at me the way he looks at you...the therapy bills would be ridiculous.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Sam again, either in confusion, disbelief, or both.

“Please just trust me on this, Cas. Don’t do this.”

Cas didn’t know what to think, but Sam was so earnest and giving him the trademarked puppy dog eyes, so Cas had no choice but to nod.

“How are we going to stop Dean?” Cas asked.

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment before answering, “Leave that to me. Why don’t you go to bed?”

Cas didn’t think it likely he’d be able to sleep, but he nodded anyway, wishing Sam a good night. He headed back to Dean’s room and sat in the desk chair, still trying to grasp what Sam had said.

_____________________________________________________________

When Sam came back into the kitchen, Dean was fiddling with the coffee maker. If Sam was surprised by his behavior, he didn’t show it. Dean looked up when he heard footsteps and said, “Hey, you wanna cup?”

“Dean, it’s nearly midnight. I think I’ll pass on the caffeine.”

Dean just nodded and resumed his actions while Sam took his seat at the table.

“So I just caught Cas trying to sneak out of the bunker,” Sam said casually.

Dean whirled around, eyes wide. “What?”

“Yeah, he had the gun and was going to contact Billie,” Sam continued in that casual tone of voice, as if he wasn’t shattering Dean’s world.

“Did...did you stop him?” Dean asked, not bothering to conceal the panic filling his voice.

“For now.”

“What do you mean, ‘for now’? Where the Hell is he?” Dean realized he was getting hysterical and told himself to dial things back, but Sam seemed unfazed.

“I told him to go to sleep, so I’m assuming your room.”

Dean blanched. How had Sam known?

“Yeah Dean, I know,” Sam replied to the unasked question. “That’s really not important right now, is it?”

Dean was starting to feel nervous, so he turned back to the coffee maker to fill a cup. He didn’t want to have this conversation, but Sammy seemed determined.

“Dean, when are you finally going to man up?”

Ok, that was not the question Dean was expecting. He finished filling his cup and resumed his seat at the table, taking a small sip before making eye contact with Sammy, saying, “What are you talking about?” Yep, ignorance was definitely the way to go.

Or not.

“Cut the crap, Dean, and for once in your life, have a real conversation. When are you going to tell Cas how you feel about him?”

Dean’s knee jerk reaction was to deny, deny, deny. But Sammy was calling him out, which made him want to retort with something witty and sarcastic...so naturally, he sat silently, unable to answer.

That didn’t seem to deter Sam, however, as he continued, “I’m fairly certain he was only going to sacrifice himself so you didn’t have to. He doesn’t know how to live without you, Dean, and it’s about time you did something. Is it because he’s in a male vessel? If that’s true, then you really need to get over yourself and your stupid homophobia--”

“Sammy, I’m bi.”

Dean hadn’t meant to say it, the words had just tumbled out, because no matter what Sammy thought about him, he couldn’t handle his brother thinking that he was a homophobic jerk or that he didn’t like Cas because he was a dude. He stared down at his coffee, wishing he could drop through the kitchen floor.

“Oh,” Sam said. “Oh, well...then what the fuck are you waiting for?!?”

Dean looked up at him, shocked. Sammy didn’t seem angry, just...exasperated.

“Sammy, it’s not that simple. Cas is an angel--he’s way too good for me. I don’t think he can even feel things like you and I can. It just...it wouldn’t work.”

Sam sighed heavily and buried his head in his hands. “I swear, the two of you…” he trailed off before lifting his head again and looking Dean in the eye. “Dean, I’m only going to say this once. Cas. Is. In. Love. With. You. Get your stupid head out of your stupid ass and do something about it, because he’s way too terrified to say anything to you.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but Sam held up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Don’t ask how I know this--just think. He gave up his life twice during the Apocalypse to help you. He stupidly ate a bunch of Purgatory souls to defeat Raphael, all so that you wouldn’t have to be part of Apocalypse Part II. He told me once that he’d tried to stay ahead of you in Purgatory to keep the leviathan away from you and that he heard every one of your prayers--and it killed him every time not to answer. He fought off Naomi’s mind control so he wouldn’t kill you, and he gave up an angel army to save you. He always comes back to you, he does everything for you, and he would die for you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and it’s the same damn way I used to look at Jess. He’s in love with you, all right?”

Dean was staring at Sam openly now, shock written on every feature. He realized that Sammy was waiting for an answer, so he nodded slowly.

“Good. Now, will you please finally do something about it?”

Dean sipped his coffee as he allowed his thoughts to swirl. The things Sammy said could add up to what he was asserting, but Dean was still unsure. As though Sam could read Dean’s mind, he sent him a glare. “I know what I’m talking about, Jerk.”

“All right, all right, fine. I’ll do something about it. Bitch.”

A grin spread across Sam’s face. Dean’s hand was shaking slightly as he raised his mug to his mouth, draining the remainder of the coffee. He was beginning to feel more sober and found himself wishing he’d downed more whiskey instead when it occurred to him that Cas deserved to hear sober words instead of drunken ramblings.

“Brush your teeth first,” Sam suggested with a wink.

“Sammy,” Dean groaned, glaring at his brother. Sam sat there, a shit-eating grin on his face, and after a few moments, Dean found himself laughing. “How long have you known?”

“That you two loved each other? About...ten and a half years.”

“Oh God,” Dean choked out, burying his head in his hands. “I’m an idiot.”

“It’s been said. Lucky for you, Cas has a soft spot for idiots. Now go get him already.”

Dean exchanged one last look with Sam, took a deep breath, and pushed himself up from the table.

_______________________________________________________________

Not that he’d ever admit it, but Dean took Sammy’s advice and stopped in the bathroom to brush his teeth. If this went the way he wanted it to, having whiskey and coffee breath would be a major turn-off.

He stood outside his door and squared his shoulders, took another deep breath, and opened the door, pushing into the room with one motion. He wasn’t surprised to see Cas sitting in the desk chair, seemingly lost in thought.

Cas jumped up when Dean walked in, looking pleasantly surprised. Dean closed the door and leaned against it, aiming for casual, but failing due to his nerves. He couldn’t stop fidgeting with the buttons on his flannel over shirt, but Cas didn’t seem to notice.

“Dean,” he said tightly. “Please tell me you’re not going to do it.”

Dean looked alarmed at first, thinking that Cas was reading his mind. It took a couple of seconds to realize that Cas was talking about sacrificing himself to Billie, and he flashed a half smile. “Only if you won’t.”

Cas seemed to start breathing at those words, and a genuine smile crossed his lips. “All right, Dean.”

Silence fell between the two men as Dean struggled to start probably the most important conversation of his life. Words weren’t his strong suit, but he was going to make an effort for Cas.

“Cas, I’m going to need you to promise not to do anything stupid like that. I can’t lose you, not again. I...need you.” Dammit. That was not what Dean was supposed to say.

Cas looked a bit crestfallen, but said, “Of course, Dean. I promise I won’t sacrifice myself to kill Chuck.”

Cas was starting to turn away, disappointment evident in his body language, when Dean remembered that he needed to man up. “Cas, I love you.”

Cas jerked back towards Dean, his mouth falling open. 

“I mean...Jesus, Cas...you have to know that, right? I love you.” It was easier saying it the second time, but not much. He waited for Cas to say something--anything--but when Cas finally spoke, he started to wish he could take it all back.

“Dean, I love you too,” Cas said quietly. There was no joy, no happiness, nothing in Cas’ tone to indicate that he was ecstatic with reciprocation--the angel looked sad.

That’s when Dean realized that Sammy had been wrong, that Cas didn’t love him the way he loved the angel. Cas was sad because he needed to let Dean down gently. He only loved Dean like a brother, and Cas was willing to say those words to try and ease Dean’s embarrassment.

Once Dean’s heart was done breaking, he was going to kill Sammy.

“Let me guess, you love me like a brother?” Dean asked, his words coming out more clipped than he meant, but he didn’t want Cas knowing how hurt he was.

Cas flinched as though he’d been slapped. “No, Dean. I love you in all the ways it is possible to love another.”

Dean found himself utterly confused now. “So what’s the problem?”

Cas looked down at his bare feet, saying quietly, “Dean, you have no idea just how much I love--and desire-- you. But I’m in a male vessel, and even if I had the power to change vessels at this point, I would be loathe to do so. I know you’re not attracted to men--”

Cas never got to finish what he was saying. As soon as he’d said the words “male vessel”, Dean knew where this was going. He’d dealt with this once already tonight with words. He figured actions would be much more appropriate at this point. 

While Cas was talking, Dean surged forward and roughly grabbed Cas’ face with his hands, pulling Cas’ head up so he was looking at Dean. Without hesitation, Dean kissed him soundly on the lips, applying more pressure than was probably necessary, but dammit, Dean wanted to get his point across.

Cas made a strangled noise of surprise in the back of this throat, but responded to Dean’s kiss quickly. He kissed Dean back, tentatively at first, then with increasing pressure as Dean deepened the kiss. Cas’s arms and hands wound around Dean’s back, pulling him closer.

Dean tilted his head to get a better angle, then began teasing Cas’ lips with his tongue. Cas opened up to him, causing Dean to moan softly. Dean pushed his tongue slowly into Cas’ mouth, exploring, and was surprised when Cas’ tongue immediately met it, tangling with it in a seductive invitation. Cas’ arms pulled him even tighter, and Dean could feel the angel’s erection pressing against his thigh.

They kissed for a few more moments, locked together practically from head to toe, before Dean pulled back. Cas whined at the loss and clutched to Dean, hoping that the man wasn’t about to slip away. He heard Dean chuckle and opened his eyes. Dean looked gorgeous, his face flushed, eyes wide, and lips slightly swollen. 

“Don’t worry, Cas, I’m not going anywhere,” Dean said, his voice soft and choked with desire. “Please tell me you get it now.”

Cas nodded. It felt like his brain was short-circuiting a bit too much for him to actually speak--something that shouldn’t be happening to an angel.

Dean grinned. “Look, I want to continue this, but I don’t want to move too fast for you, so you’ll need to tell me to stop if something’s too uncomfortable for you, okay?”

Again, Cas could only nod. He couldn’t even conceive of telling Dean to stop--he wanted everything.

Dean was simply standing there, staring at Cas. The angel honestly had no idea how fucking hot he was--his hair standing at odd angles (had Dean done that? He honestly hoped so), eyes wide and lust-filled, lips round and swollen. Dean wanted to dive back in but didn’t really trust himself to stop, so he was forcing himself to simply devour Cas with his eyes for a few moments.

Cas had other ideas. He grew impatient with Dean and initiated the next kiss. Dean found himself swept away with Cas’ enthusiasm, and the quiet moans that the angel was emitting were causing his dick to twitch.

Cas began tugging at Dean’s overshirt, which prompted the two to break apart long enough for Dean to shrug out of it and drop it to the floor. Dean opted to peel his undershirt off as well and Cas followed suit. They stared hungrily at each other, taking in the firm pectoral muscles, taut biceps, and (mostly) flat stomachs that they both sported. They met again in a frenzied kiss, slamming their chests together in an effort to press as much skin together as possible.

Cas felt his erection straining at the borrowed jeans and knew he wanted it freed. He could feel Dean’s pressed up against his hip and figured that the man was feeling the same way, so he reached between them and popped the button on Dean’s pants first.

Dean jerked back, staring at Cas in surprise. “Are you sure?” he asked huskily.

Cas wanted none of that. “Dean. I want you in me,” he said, aiming for a commanding tone. He stepped back and thumbed the button of his own jeans, drew down the zipper, and shimmied out of the pants. Dean continued to watch in silence as Cas drew down his boxers, quietly sighing when he released his erection. Without breaking eye contact, Cas crawled onto the bed, his legs spread.

“Oh fuck,” Dean weakly said.

“That’s the general idea,” Cas replied, instilling more confidence into the statement than he felt. He felt flutters in his stomach and his heart was flipping in a disconcerting way.

Dean immediately stripped out of his jeans, boxers, socks, and boots while Cas watched, gently palming himself to relieve the pressure in his groin. He felt himself salivating when he saw Dean’s erection, bright red and leaking. 

Dean stepped over to the nightstand and fished lube out of the drawer, placing it on top within easy reach. He slowly climbed onto the bed, settling himself between Cas’ legs, Cas planting his hands in Dean’s hair. He looked down at Cas’ dick and found himself totally mesmerized--it was slightly longer than his own, but of a similar girth. The head was purple with blood and leaking pre cum.

Dean planted kisses on Cas’ inner thighs, moving ever closer to his groin, but stopping short. He then moved on to Cas’ stunning hip bones (honestly, Dean thought he could write poetry about the damn things), sucking small bruises into them, all while Cas gasped and moaned above him.

Dean kissed up Cas’ perfectly-toned stomach and onto his chest, making his way over to the left nipple first. Cas let out a particularly loud moan and his dick twitched when Dean sucked the nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue a few times before releasing. When Dean kissed his way over to the right nipple, he was delighted to discover a tiny mole just above it, and paid attention to both.

By the time he had sucked bruises along Cas’ collarbone and into strategic places on his neck, Cas was a shaking mess. Dean finally met Cas’ lips again in a searing kiss while reaching down and grasping Cas’ dick in his right hand, giving it a gentle tug.

Cas gasped as sensations flooded him. His only sexual experience had been with April, and while his body had responded, it was nothing like this. This was completely overwhelming and yet not enough. He tugged on Dean’s hair, pulling the man back from his lips so he could say, “Please, Dean. Please.”

Dean smiled, but it wasn’t a sarcastic smirk. This was a smile full of love and affection, and the sight of it nearly brought Cas to tears. Dean leaned forward and planted a quick kiss to Cas’ lips, then reached for the lube, pouring some on his fingers.

“You let me know if this uncomfortable or painful and I’ll stop, okay?” Dean said quietly. Cas nodded. There was no way he was going to say anything, and he was hoping he had enough grace left in him to soothe any pain.

Dean hadn’t done this since the Double Mint twins, back before going to Hell, way back before he even knew Cas existed. He figured it was like riding a bike, but he was still going to take it slow, for both of their sakes. He pushed Cas’ legs up and spread them to gain access and gently pressed with his index finger, spreading the lube around. Cas inhaled sharply, but it was in pleasure, so Dean gently pressed the finger in, moving incrementally up to the first knuckle, monitoring Cas’ reaction.

When Cas didn’t appear to be in pain, Dean pushed forward, marveling at the velvety heat surrounding him. He pushed as far as he could and stroked gently, then grasped Cas’ dick with his left hand, stroking in tandem.

Clearly, this was what Cas had been waiting for his entire existence. There was no pain whatsoever, only the incredible waves of pleasure that Dean’s touch evoked. Cas moaned and looked at Dean, saying, “What are you waiting for?”

Dean chuckled and slowly added a second finger, keeping the dual stroking gentle but consistent. When Cas was pushing himself down on Dean’s fingers, Dean added a third.

Cas was panting, leaking pre-cum continually, and thrusting his hips down onto Dean’s fingers when Dean found his prostate. Cas shoved his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming, and shot a wild look at Dean. “Dean. Get in me NOW.”

Dean’s dick twitched at that, and thought it wasn’t fair that Cas’ already sexy voice could actually go deeper. He removed both hands from Cas, prompting a soft whine, so that he could spread the lube on himself. He braced himself on Cas’ hips and gently prodded the outer ring, to let Cas become familiar with the change in size.

Cas was impatient, however, and began to push himself on Dean’s dick. Dean immediately got on board, took over, and inched himself in, letting Cas adjust. When he finally bottomed out, he laid still, his hands running all over Cas’ chest, upper arms, and face. He kissed Cas tenderly, putting all of the love and awe he was feeling into it.

Cas was feeling full to the brim with unwavering love, devotion, and desire, almost the point of suffocation. He finally pulled away with a smoldering look in his eyes and said, “Dean, if you don’t start moving, I will find a way to smite you.”

Dean grinned and pulled out slowly, savoring the dragging feeling up and down his dick. Cas groaned wantonly as Dean pushed back in just as slowly. Dean gradually increased the pace, varying the length of the thrusts. He supported himself on his right forearm and grasped Cas’ dick with his left hand, stroking in time with his thrusts.

It didn’t take long for Dean to locate Cas’ prostate once again, and shortly thereafter, Cas stiffened beneath him. He pulled Dean into a desperate kiss to drown out his scream as he came. Dean continued to stroke him through his orgasm and increased his own thrusts. Dean pulled away from Cas’ lips and looked at Cas, really looked at him, and said, “Cas, I love you,” before orgasming with a drawn-out groan.

Dean collapsed on top of Cas, his head nestled on the angel’s chest. Cas stroked his hair gently and whispered, “I love you too, Dean, with everything I have.”

Eventually Dean pulled himself up and out of Cas, and they cleaned themselves up as best they could with tissues. Dean resumed his usual side of the bed and pulled Cas into him easily. Cas nestled his head on Dean’s bare shoulder, kissing Dean’s neck softly, then saying, “Good night, Beloved.”

“Good night, Cas. I love you.”

_________________________________________________________________

Sam had silently trailed after Dean when he’d gone downstairs to the bathroom and then to his room. He didn’t really want to eavesdrop on a private moment between Dean and Cas, but he needed to make sure that those idiots finally got on the same page.

He stayed long enough to hear Cas’ statement about male vessels get cut off. It took him a moment to realize why, but when he did, a grin spread across his face and he crept to his own room, closing the door behind him soundlessly. He looked forlornly at his bed but knew he wasn’t going to get to sleep. He had a lot of work to do.


	10. The Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more smut, and someone goes ahead with Billie's plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last official chapter, but an Epilogue is upcoming.

Three hours later, Dean startled awake from a nightmare. He sat up quickly, inadvertently spilling Cas to the mattress with an audible thump. Cas groaned in surprise as Dean ran his hands through his hair, mumbling an apology.

“Dean? Is everything all right?” Cas asked once he was semi-conscious.

“Nightmare.”

Cas sat up on the bed but stayed behind Dean so he could wrap his arms around the somber man. Cas didn’t even bother searching for the grace needed to ease Dean’s mind, choosing to ask instead, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Normally Dean wasn’t one for sharing and caring, but there was something soothing about having Cas wrapped around him that forced out the words. “I was back in the cemetery, and everyone I’ve let die was there...Donna, Mom, my dad, Charlie, Jack, Bobby, even you and Sammy. Donna pushed me into an open grave and all of you surrounded the opening, shoveling handfuls of dirt on top of me. I kept trying to apologize, but my mom said it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough…”

Cas squeezed Dean more tightly as the man trailed off, feeling a desperate ache for him. He knew that there weren’t any words he could offer to chase the nightmare away, and telling Dean that “everything’s okay” wouldn’t make him feel any better. Anxious to do something, Cas pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. He felt Dean’s shoulders relax ever-so-slightly, so he planted more kisses along the man’s shoulders and down his spine. By the time Cas had reached Dean’s tailbone, Dean was practically slumped over and breathing heavily.

Cas shifted to the side so that Dean could lay back against the pillows. Once he was settled, Cas could see the sheets tenting over Dean’s crotch. Cas slowly pulled the sheets back, exposing Dean’s erection to his own lascivious gaze. He lowered his head to lock lips with Dean, gently pressing his tongue into the man’s mouth, while managing to straddle Dean’s hips. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ torso, content to run his hands up and down the angel’s back.

Cas ground their erections together slowly, dragging out the delectable slide of skin against skin, until Dean was moaning into his mouth. This was not rushed or frenzied like earlier, but every bit as passionate.

Cas finally pulled back to look into Dean’s lust-clouded eyes, asking, “Dean? What would you like?”

Dean looked nervous, but said confidently, “I want you in me.”

Cas raised an eyebrow, legitimately surprised. “Are you sure? You may need to...talk me through this.”

At that statement, Dean’s nervousness vanished and a smile crossed his lips. “If you need me to, sure, but I think you can handle it. Just remember what I did for you, and use lots of lube.”

Cas reached over to grasp the tube and flipped open the cap. “And you will tell me if I hurt you?”

Dean grinned at him. “I promise,” he said solemnly, but the expression on his face belied his tone.

Cas was determined to keep things gentle, even to the point of erring on the side of being TOO gentle. This was meant to be a comfort to Dean, not something that would serve the man’s masochistic nature. Cas squirted too much lube onto his fingers and rubbed some of the excess onto Dean’s dick, causing him to squirm in pleasure.

Cas remembered Dean using one finger at a time, so he started with his index finger, slowly circling before entering. He teased Dean with his fingertip, making sure that Dean wasn’t experiencing any pain, before easing forward. By the time he had inserted one finger up to the second knuckle, he’d successfully located Dean’s prostate and was dragging his nail against it every third stroke. This was enough to keep Dean aroused but was still gentle.

By the time Cas had two full fingers in and was slowly scissoring Dean open, the man was panting and begging for more. Cas maintained the snail’s pace, even ignoring Dean’s dick for the most part. Dean wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch himself, but based on the pace Cas was setting, he was going to guess not.

Dean damn near lost it when Cas unexpectedly added his tongue to the two fingers already thrusting in and out of him. The addition of something hot and wet was something Dean never thought he would want in his ass--but he was man enough to admit he’d been wrong.

Finally, Cas added the third finger and was moving a bit more quickly now. He was still aiming for gentle but his own erection was getting painful. Dean was breathing out his name with every other breath and sounding desperate as well.

Cas pulled his fingers out and said, “Dean, are you ready?” He tried to keep his voice even but it sounded strained.

“Jesus Cas, yes. Please just fuck me already,” Dean said. He figured he should be more eloquent, more romantic for Cas--but he’s no poet, even when he isn’t aroused beyond belief.

Cas applied a liberal amount of lube to his dick, hoping it was enough, and grasped Dean’s hips. He started to push in as gently as he could, finding that holding back was nearly impossible and wondering how Dean had managed it earlier. He thought the effort paid off when he was able to slide in slowly, yet continuously, without causing Dean any pain.

“Oh, Dean,” he breathed once he was fully sheathed. “This...this is incredible. I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Dean chuckled and pulled Cas down into a kiss. “Then don’t talk,” Dean said softly. “Move.”

Cas drew himself most of the way out, then pushed back in, deliberately taking it slowly so he could savor every sensation that was coursing through him. After a few thrusts, he found Dean’s prostate once again, and began making agonizingly slow but shorter thrusts to hit that spot every time. Once he set that rhythm, he leaned forward to capture Dean’s lips with his own, trapping Dean’s dick between their stomachs.

Even with the pace much more languid than Dean normally would have enjoyed, he came quickly, the orgasm pulsing out of him. He didn’t possess the ability to groan or even call out Cas’ name--all he could do was try to draw breath as he was assaulted by an overwhelming wave of feeling. A part of him thought he should be disgusted--after all, he didn’t do this chick flick shit--but the rest of him was overjoyed and clinging to Cas for dear life.

Dean’s orgasm prompted Cas’ own, and he groaned Dean’s name on one long exhale. He collapsed on top of Dean, limbs shaking. He was surprised to feel Dean’s thumb wipe away something on his cheeks, and he looked at the man in confusion to see that Dean looked concerned.

“Are you okay, Cas? You’re crying.”

Cas pondered this for a moment and realized it was true. “Yes, Dean, I’m wonderful. Those were happy tears.”

Cas gently slid out of Dean and rolled off of him to reach for tissues. Once they were (somewhat) cleaned up, he snuggled into Dean’s arms with a contented sigh. After a few moments of comfortable silence he asked, “Dean? Was that ‘making love’?”

Dean chuckled, because of course Cas had managed to use air quotes. “Yeah Cas, I think it was.”

“Was it satisfactory for you?”

Dean was trying to stifle an outright laugh now. His angel was just too damn cute. “Absolutely, Cas. You were perfect.”

A happy and proud smile filled Cas’ face. “Thank you, Dean. Now get some more sleep.”

“Yes, dear.”

________________________________________________________________

Sam was looking down at the third piece of paper. He was having difficulty deciding what to write. Surprisingly, the first two notes had been easy to write--perhaps he’d been writing versions of them in his head for years. This one was a bit trickier. Before he could second and triple guess himself, he put a pen to paper and wrote:

Dear Jack,

I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have you back, and to see you doing so well. I imagine that things have to be difficult sometimes, and that you’re still trying to find your path. You are still unsure of your powers, and are afraid of hurting those around you, especially those you love. You’ve had to deal with a lot in your short lifetime, things that would have broken a weaker being. I like to think that you emerged stronger because of it. Don’t ever forget that you have the power to choose your own destiny. Don’t ever forget all of the things your mother told you--mothers know best, and no matter what you’ve done in the past, yours will always love you and forgive you.

Dean might be difficult to deal with sometimes, especially right now. Give him some time. I don’t know how much you saw when we thought you were gone, but he was devastated. He loves you just as much as Cas does even if he’s lousy at showing it. Just be patient with him.

I’m so glad I had a chance to know you, to be a part of your life, and I can honestly say that I am going to miss you.

Love,  
Sam

P.S. I would never have used the gun. 

 

It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it was from Sam’s heart, so that would have to be good enough. He folded the paper in half, wrote Jack’s name on it, and placed it on his desk next to two other pieces of paper. He opened up his cell phone and thumbed through the small amount of pictures he kept on it--pictures of Dean, Cas, Jack, and his mom--before plugging in the phone to charge and setting it down next to the pieces of paper.

He downed the whiskey remaining in the tumbler he’d brought to his room and quietly turned off the desk lamp. When he opened the door, he turned and gave the room one last fond look before stepping into the hallway, leaving the door ajar. It was quiet in the bunker as he slowly made his way through the library, taking in the treasured books one last time, and into the War Room. His feet felt like lead as he trudged up the stairs, but he didn’t hesitate when he opened the interior and exterior doors and stepped outside the bunker.

He walked to a point approximately halfway between the bunker and where Donna’s pyre had been and pulled the gun out of the waistband of his jeans. “Billie? I’m ready to do this.”

Billie appeared almost instantly, as though she had been hovering. “I was wondering which one of you it would be,” she said, though there was no trace of sarcasm in her voice. “I was hoping it would be you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the best suited.”

Sam scoffed at the vagueness of the statement, but decided to ignore it. “How is this going to work? I thought if God was dead, the whole world ends.”

“Generally, yes. Have you ever heard the expression ‘Grace of God’?”

Sam nodded, realization slowly dawning on him...maybe.

“I fully intend to remove his grace and place it in another. Someone else will assume the role of God, thus allowing the world and all of creation to continue.”

Sam looked stunned. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he said, awe coloring his voice.

Billie gave him a smug look and said, “Have you figured out who’s receiving his grace, Sam?”

“Well...no. An angel? Cas?”

Billie chuckled at that. “Yes, because that experiment worked so well the last time!”

Sam shot her a frustrated look. “I give up,” he said dryly.

Billie’s amused expression cleared. “You, Samuel Winchester. You’re the crown prince.”

Sam felt himself recoil in horror. “No! You can’t do that! I don’t want it!”

“Sam, be smart. Who better to be God than a human who is capable of handling extraordinary powers? A human who has experienced four realms of creation, who survived Hell, who fought the darkness within himself? Chuck is out of control, you’ve seen that. The universe needs a former human in control, someone with a moral compass and a soul that can temper the Grace.”

“So...if Dean or Cas had gotten to you first, you would have put the Grace of God into them?”

“Not as willingly, but yes, I wouldn’t have had a choice. Dean would have been a much better candidate than Castiel, but I think the angel learned his lesson.”

Sam looked torn. No one should have shoulder this burden, least of all Dean or Cas. But he knew he wasn’t worthy of carrying such power--he was, after all, an abomination.

“No, you’re not,” Billie said. “You were purged of the demon blood a long time ago. It only lives on in your guilt. Let it go, Sam. If you will not do this for yourself, do it for your brother. He deserves happiness, does he not?”

“Dammit,” Sam muttered. “All right. So I shoot Chuck, then what?”

“Leave that to me,” Billie said. She nodded at Sam and he raised the gun. An instant later a confused-looking Chuck materialized a few feet in front of Sam. Chuck opened his mouth as if to say something but Sam pulled the trigger as soon as he had taken aim. He knew better than to let Chuck get a word in edgewise.

He drilled Chuck in the middle of the forehead. The next moment, Sam was standing, looking down at his body that was sporting an identical wound. Billie was chanting in Enochian, her hands cupped around Chuck’s chest. A glowing blue orb filled her hands and she transported herself to Sam, looking at his soul rather than his body. Without a word, she roughly shoved the orb into Sam’s chest.

At first, it felt like excruciating pain radiating outwards, filling every last atom of his soul. Sam opened his mouth in a silent scream, wondering if the torment would ever end. Within a few minutes, the pain started to ebb, slowly drawing back into his chest. Eventually, all he could feel was a pulsating power and an overwhelming consciousness of everything around him. He could see where everyone was sleeping in the bunker--he could see exactly what Cas and Dean were doing, and ewww--he knew instantly the number of insects located within a single square mile, he even knew the exact amount of liters of water in a pond located 2.345 miles away.

He finally looked at Billie, amazed. “Holy shit,” he said, then laughed at the absurdity of God swearing. Billie actually looked amused. “So, I can do whatever I want now? I’m in charge of the angels?”

“The few of them that are left,” she said. “You should know that shortly after Jack killed your mother, he made more angels--you best be tracking them down. You also have the power to resurrect the deceased ones, and restore Castiel, should you so choose. I do recommend taking a more hands-on approach with the angels than Chuck did in recent years.”

“And what about you?” Sam asked.

“Stay out of my business. No more cosmic consequences,” Billie said shortly and was gone.

With a single thought, Sam atomized his body along with Chuck’s. He didn’t want his family finding them. He would monitor the bunker while tending to other matters, like getting rid of the Hell spawn...and with a snap of his fingers, those were gone as well. Then he blinked and was in Heaven, preparing to get to work once again.  
__________________________________________________________________

When Dean awoke the second time, it was much less jarring and much more pleasant. He planted a kiss in Cas’ hair before nudging the angel to wake him up. Cas groaned but began to wiggle, yawning and stretching.

“Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep well?”

Dean kissed Cas full on the lips and said, “Sure did. I guess I just wasn’t worn out the first time.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “You’re insufferable,” he intoned.

“I know. But you love me anyway,” Dean said, a huge grin spreading across his face.

Cas smiled back. “Yes, I do.”

Dean kissed him again, then pulled himself out of bed. “Come on, let’s go shower.”

“Together?”

“Obviously.”

A long shower (and mutual handjobs) later, Cas and Dean were making coffee in the kitchen when Charlie breezed in. “Have you guys seen Sam?” she asked. “He’s not in his room or the library.”

Cas and Dean exchanged a look. “Maybe he went for a run?” Dean volunteered. “I’ll try his cell phone.”

When Sam didn’t answer, Dean started to feel a little concerned. He and Cas split up and searched the bunker for him without any luck. Dean had gone to double-check Sam’s bedroom and was stepping out of it when he decided to call Sam’s cell again. He could hear something vibrating along with Sam’s tinny ringtone. 

Dean stepped back into Sam’s room, his eyes falling to the desk. That’s when he saw it--the ringing cell phone, next to three pieces of paper each with a different name on them: “Dean”, “Cas”, and “Jack”.

Dean felt his phone slip from his fingers. “Cas!” he yelled. He wanted to step forward, to pick up the paper with his name on it, but he was frozen in abject terror. He could hear footsteps pounding down the hall and suddenly, Cas was at his side.

“Dean! What--” he trailed off as soon as he saw Sam’s desk. “Oh no,” he said wretchedly.

“Cas. I...I can’t. I can’t look.”

Cas steered Dean over to Sam’s bed and sat him down. Charlie poked her head into the room and when Cas met her eyes, he motioned for her to leave. Charlie seemed to put two and two together and closed the door gently behind her.

Cas took the paper addressed to himself as well as Dean’s, placing Dean’s into the man’s hands. “I’m going to read mine,” Cas said softly. He didn’t really want to, but he knew it needed to be done. Cas unfolded the paper and read silently.

Dear Castiel,

I realize you’re probably going to be very angry with me for doing the exact thing I stopped you from doing. I’m sorry that you’re angry, that you’re hurt, and that you’ll have to be the one to put Dean back together once again. I also think you know that this had to be done. How many more people were going to die before Dean snapped and did it himself? If you and I really stop and think about things, we both know that we can’t live without him. So while I partially did this for you, for him, and for the world, I mostly did this for me, because I’m a selfish bastard who doesn’t know how to live without his brother.

Speaking of Dean...I’m going to ask you to continue to be patient with him. He’s an emotionally stunted imbecile most of the time, but I know he loves you with everything he has. Our dad taught him that to show emotion was to show weakness, and weakness gets you killed. Dad lost what he loved most in life, and he didn’t want his sons to experience the same thing. So Dean is probably going to screw things up with you--a lot--but he’ll always come back to you. Please just have a little more faith in him and it will be worth it.

Thank you for being the only angel worth knowing--honestly, Cas, you kick ass. I always believed in angels only to find that they didn’t believe in me...until one day, you did. I know things weren’t always perfect, but I like to think in the end, we were brothers. I love you, man, and I’m going to miss you. Please take care of Dean and Jack for me.

Love,  
Sam

Tears were streaming down Cas’ face when he finished. Dean took one look at him and knew what that meant, but knowing what was in the note gave him the courage to finally read it. With a deep breath and a shaking hand, Dean flipped his own open.

Hey Jerk,

I’m sorry I have to do this, Dean. I know you’re angry with me, pissed as fuck that I managed to stop you last night. The truth is that I couldn’t let you do this because I don’t know how to live without my big brother. I’ve had to do it twice now--it sucked, and I was really shitty at it. I can’t do it a third time. Plus, someone would have to be able to pick up the pieces of Cas’ shattered heart, and I’d be in no condition to do that. It would kill both of us. So, before you go thinking I’m a total dick for saving the world without you, I only did this because I’m the selfish asshole that doesn’t know how to let go.

So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re not making any deals, you’re not begging Billie to bring me back, you’re not doing shit. You’re going to let Cas help you because he LOVES you. I don’t know why, but he’s choosing to be saddled with your angst-ridden ass, so you might as well give it all to him (I’m talking about your heart and your soul, eww, Dean). Let him love you as much as you love him, and try not to fuck it up. You both deserve to be happy even if you don’t believe it. Do me this favor, please, okay?

I love you, you stupid jerk.

Love,  
Sammy

 

Dean set the note on the bed carefully next to him and wrapped his arms around Cas, letting the tears flow freely. “Ok, Bitch,” he whispered.

“Oh shit, I was hoping to get here before the waterworks.”

Cas and Dean shot off the bed instantly, gaping at the sheepish-looking Sam now standing in front of them.

“No. This...cannot be,” Cas said, gazing at Sam with wonder. 

“Sammy? Did Billie send you back?” Dean asked, hope breaking through his tear-choked voice.

“Not exactly,” Sam said, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

Cas turned to Dean, stuttering, “He’s...he’s…God.”

For once, Dean was speechless.

Cas refocused on Sam, just saying, “How?”

Sam explained what Billie had done, also telling them that the dark souls were gone. “I’m also rounding up angels,” Sam said, giving Cas a pointed look. “Castiel, I think we need to talk.”

At that point, Dean’s knees gave out. He couldn’t cope with the emotional roller coaster that had been the last 12 hours. It would figure that he’d finally gotten Cas only to lose him to Heaven once more. He stared resolutely at the floor, knowing that if he looked at either Cas or Sam, he would turn into an embarrassing mess.

“Dean, we’ll be back,” Sam said an instant before he and Cas disappeared.

“Dammit!” Dean yelled into the now empty room. He’d heard that from Cas before when the angel had popped off to Heaven, and Cas had always come back. Dean wasn’t so sure that would be the case this time.

Sam and Cas materialized outside the bunker in the exact spot where Sam had met Billie. Cas looked a bit annoyed, saying, “Was that really necessary? Dean’s probably frantic that I’m not coming back.”

“Oh,” Sam said quietly. “It’s odd how much I’m forgetting to think about these things already. I just knew I wanted to talk to you privately.”

Cas sighed. He knew what was coming. “Let me guess, I’m going to get my mojo back and I’m going to be at your side?” He knew he sounded flippant, but he felt like he was talking to his friend Sam, not...God.

Sam smiled warmly at that. “Only if you want, Cas. I’m offering you a choice--you can become an angel again--I will fully restore your grace--but you will spend your time solely in Heaven. Or, you can fall completely and become human.”

Cas looked at him, a smile threatening to take over his face. “I can’t have it both ways, can I?”

“No, Castiel. I’m keeping the angels off Earth. They’ve done enough meddling, don’t you think? I can’t afford to make an exception.” Sam looked as though he regretted saying it, but only slightly.

“Should I become human, where will I go when I die?”

Sam smiled warmly. “I have it on good authority that you will share a Heaven with Dean.”

Cas’ face broke into the biggest smile he’d ever known. “The choice is obvious, Sam. I’m staying here where I belong, with Dean.”

Sam nodded, his grin mirroring that of Cas. “I’m not going to rip your grace from you, but it will slowly run out.”

“That’s more than fair. Thank you, Sam.”

“Of course, Castiel. You will take care of my brother, right? I don’t have to threaten to smite you if you hurt him?”

Cas actually laughed at that. “I would sooner hurt myself.”

“Good answer.”

Sam brought them back into his room at the bunker, where Dean was still sitting on the bed, looking shell-shocked. His head jerked up at their arrival and he said, “You came back,” teary eyes focused on Cas.

Cas pulled Dean up from the bed and into the tightest hug he could manage. Dean’s arms snaked around him as he buried his head in Cas’ shoulder. “I will always come back, Dean. I’m never leaving you--you’re stuck with me.”

Dean pulled back and looked between Cas, who was smiling and tearing up himself, and Sam, who looked smug. “You’re not going to Heaven?” Dean asked.

“I gave Cas a choice,” Sam said. “Stay in Heaven for all eternity with me bossing him around, or stay down here for a few decades with you bossing him around. For some stupid reason, he chose you.” 

Dean looked horrified. “Cas, tell me you didn’t just give up being an angel for me.”

“I didn’t just give up being an angel for you. I gave it up for myself. You make me happy, happier than I could ever be if I had gone back. Please don’t regret this decision, Dean. This is what I want.” Cas leaned forward and sealed his words with a kiss, and when he pulled back, Dean could see the truth in those startling blue eyes.

“Well, this has been fun, but it looks like I should leave,” Sam said, mirth in his tone. “This isn’t goodbye, Dean,” he added when he saw Dean’s face fall. “I’m not going to live here anymore, but I’ll stop by when I can.”

“Promise?” Dean asked petulantly, not caring that he sounded like a toddler.

“I promise,” Sam said solemnly, and with a blink, he was gone. Cas and Dean sat back down on Sam’s bed and held each other for a long time after that.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking in with Cas and Dean, one year later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this is SUPER FLUFF. It's fluffier than the fluffy unicorn in "Despicable Me". If you don't like fluff, you don't have to read, and you won't have missed any important advancement of the plot. I just figured that we'll be in for a heartbreaking series finale and wanted to do something completely opposite to that. 
> 
> It's been a ride, thank you for your comments and your Kudos. Love them!!!!!

ONE YEAR LATER

“Yes, of course Agent Stipe is one of ours,” Bobby snapped into a cell phone labeled ‘FBI’. “Yes, he’s supposed to be there. Do you have any other stupid questions?” He jammed a button on his phone and dropped it to the library table with a heavy sigh and a muttered, “Idjit.”

“Aidan?” Cas asked with a bemused smile, looking up from a large tome he was perusing. 

“Who else?” Bobby grunted. “The kid saves all of his charm for Krissy, I swear. Can’t lie worth a damn to actual law enforcement.”

“Bobby! I got another one!” Charlie called from the opposite end of the library. Charlie had set up a permanent computer hub for herself that everyone gave a wide berth. She had revolutionized their jobs, intercepting emergency calls from across the US and Canada and helping Bobby dispatch teams of hunters. She also tracked the teams via their cell phones so if someone missed a check-in, help was quick to come.

“What are we looking at?” Bobby grunted.

“Possible demon in Oklahoma City,” she replied.

“Jack, you feel like taking this one?” Bobby asked, turning to the young man who was helping Cas with research.

“Sure, who should I take along?” Rule number 1 of hunting the Winchester Way: no solo hunts. EVER.

“Jody, you up for this?” Bobby asked, his voice softening ever so subtly.

“Sure thing! Let me grab my gear, Jack.” As she slid past Bobby, she paused, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“Better be,” Bobby grumbled, but his lips curved upwards.

Jody ran into Dean when she cut through the kitchen as Dean was putting the rest of the mass quantities of chili he’d cooked into the refrigerator.

“Dean, I would have thought you’d be packing the Impala!”

“It’s already packed,” he said with a smile. “Got a case?”

“Possible demon in Oklahoma. Heading there with Jack. Should be easy.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will...and hey, good luck tonight,” she said. She leaned over and gave him a pat on the ass for good measure. “Go get him, tiger.”

“Jesus, Jody,” Dean mumbled, turning a lovely shade of pink. Jody sauntered out of the kitchen, her laughter following her.

“Dean? Are you ready to go?”

Dean turned to see Cas standing in the doorway. Even though he’d woken up with Cas in their bed two hours earlier, he crossed over to him and wrapped him in a hug like he hadn’t seen the guy in weeks. Amused, Cas hugged him back. “Dean?”

“Yeah Cas, let’s go.”

Dean stopped in the library to remind Bobby and Charlie that there was chili in the fridge, and Claire came up from her bedroom, determined to shove Dean out to the garage. “You’ve earned a break, Dean. Get out of here.”

“Why, you having a party while we’re gone?” Dean teased. Claire rolled her eyes, giving Dean a look like she thought he was seriously uncool, but still deigned to give him and Cas a quick hug good-bye. 

Within five minutes, Cas and Dean were headed out of the bunker towards Kansas City and Dean found himself thinking back on the past year. Charlie, Bobby, Jack, and Jody now lived full time at the bunker while other hunters like Claire, Krissy, and Aidan have permanent “guest” bedrooms. Other freelance hunters in North America are always welcome at the bunker and most of them go through Charlie or Bobby before picking up a hunt.

Dean hadn’t meant to create an entire network modeled after the British Men of Letters, but Sammy had actually helped make it possible. Sam tried to stop by once or twice a month, and on one of his first visits, he left behind a debit card linked to a Swiss bank account that kept accruing funds. Charlie told Dean that Sam had naturally worked around all of the tax laws and while she didn’t know the source of the cash flow, none of them particularly cared. It was more than enough for a network of hunters to live on and provided them with good food, decent ammo, and three-star hotel accommodations. Without the need to earn a paycheck, Jody had recently stepped down as Sheriff to hunt full-time...and spend more time with Bobby. Dean honestly wasn’t surprised that had happened, and wished it could have happened with HIS Bobby.

Sam’s visits were usually short, but he always sat down and had a beer with Dean and Cas. He had resurrected Gabriel because he said the other angels were too sanctimonious and he needed someone with a sense of humor. Other than that, Sam seemed to be handling his new role rather well. There were subtle differences every day--the Westboro Baptist Church was now a thing of the past, Big Oil was virtually nonexistent, the effects of climate change were slowly reversing...Sam was accomplishing a lot of the things Cas had tried to when he was hopped up on Purgatory souls but without the bloodshed and power trip. Sam tended to focus on the big things and didn’t answer a lot of individual prayers, but he hoped that by improving everyone’s overall quality of life, the little prayers would get answered as well. All things considered, the world was a better place.

Dean and Cas still picked up the occasional hunt, but it was usually local or no more than a day’s drive. Cas enjoyed research and was working on translating all of the foreign language texts in the bunker, and Dean was thriving as the unofficial bunker chef. Dean also shared dispatch duties with Bobby and helped Charlie determine what warranted sending hunters. He knew he was getting too old to be thrown against walls all of the time, so he appreciated taking on different roles.

Jack had taken Sam’s letter to heart and kept it in his desk drawer. Ever since Billie had sent him back he had been more like the boy they had first come to know. Jack was never sure how much of his soul remained but he seemed to feel things--or he at least wanted to, very much. He was an asset on hunts, especially with his healing ability, and had saved numerous hunters and innocent civilians more times than Dean could count. While Dean would always miss his mom, he found himself feeling more grateful for the time he had with her and less angry with Jack every day.

“You seem to be lost in thought,” Cas said quietly.

“Yeah, sorry, just thinking about what a crazy year it’s been,” Dean said with a smile. “Are you ready for this weekend?”

Cas grinned. “Absolutely. Where are we staying again?”

“Hotel Intercontinental.”

“Dean, we didn’t have to go somewhere so nice.”

“First of all, yes, we did. It’s our anniversary. And B, unlimited funds. We are allowed to live a little. I think Sammy would approve,” Dean said. A couple of months ago, Cas had asked Dean if they could celebrate their one-year anniversary of being together. Dean had initially balked--after all, he didn’t usually do this kind of chick shit--but then Cas had bravely plowed on, asking if they could observe traditional anniversary gifts because they could never legally get married.

When Dean took his head out of his ass long enough to think, he realized that not only would he be willing to acknowledge a one-year anniversary of dating, but also he would fucking get a “paper” gift, because that’s what you’re supposed to get the first year. He made hotel reservations at one of the nicer hotels in Kansas City and dinner reservations at a super classy chop house for the following night. He was determined to do this right.

“All right, Dean,” Cas said, grinning at Dean’s profile.

They passed the remainder of the four and a half hour drive in casual conversation. Check-in at the Intercontinental went smoothly and Dean was delighted with the room. The mattress was exquisite even if it wasn’t quite their own memory foam.

“So, we have about three hours before even thinking about dinner. Did you want to do something?” Dean asked casually. 

“I actually wanted to give you your gift,” Cas said, turning bright pink and looking shy. Dean honestly had no idea what it was and was definitely intrigued, so he nodded. Cas rifled through their duffel and pulled something that looked like a photo album out of it, handing it to Dean.

The cover simply said, “The Winchester Family Cookbook”. Dean opened it up to a Table of Contents which listed all of the recipes he had been squirreling away in a cluttered drawer in the kitchen, organized by type of dish. He flipped to the page for “Winchester Surprise” and saw the recipe written in his mom’s handwriting. His breath caught in his throat and he looked at Cas in shock. 

“I asked her to write it down once...you were angry with me, I forget why, and I wanted to try to make this for you. I never got around to it, but I kept the recipe,” Cas said quietly.

Dean flipped to another page and found himself laughing. It was a recipe for the burgers that Dean had first made when he and Sammy had moved into the bunker. What was funny was that Cas had titled the recipe “Moose Burgers”. The ingredients and cooking directions were written in Cas’ beautiful script. All of the recipes included hints as to how many hunters they served, and notes like, “Claire’s favorite”. There were even a few blank pages at the end of each section where new recipes could be added.

Dean had glanced at all of the pages and finally looked back at Cas, unshed tears in his eyes. “Cas, this is incredible. I love it. Thank you,” he said genuinely. Cas flushed a deep pink but looked pleased.

“Claire and Charlie helped me with the formatting,” he admitted.

“That was nice of them, but as far as I’m concerned, this was all you. You’re the only person who could take my mess of recipes and organize them so beautifully and meaningfully.”

Cas’ smile broadened, and Dean found himself melting a bit. He honestly couldn’t believe how mushy he’d become in the past year, and yet...he didn’t mind it.

“I’m afraid my gift isn’t nearly as creative,” Dean said quietly, his heart flipping a little. He went to the same duffel and reached under a few flannel shirts he’d placed on the bottom to fish out a manila envelope that had thankfully stayed flat. He silently handed the envelope to Cas but remained standing, fingering the outline of his jeans pocket.

Cas opened the envelope with a quizzical look on his face and removed a thin piece of paper. He looked at it for a few seconds before looking up at Dean, saying, “I don’t understand. Who’s Castiel Novak?”

“It’s you. That’s your birth certificate.” Dean almost laughed when Cas gave him the trademarked head tilt, but honestly he was too damn nervous. “Someone back in Minnehaha County owed Jody a favor. That’s a 100% authentic birth certificate.”

“Okay,” Cas said slowly, staring back down at the piece of paper. “Why do I need one?”

“So you can get married.”

Cas’ head shot up. Dean took a deep breath and reached into his pocket to pull out a ring and slowly forced himself down onto one knee, still taking in Cas’ stunned look. “I know it’s only been a year since we figured this out, but it’s been a lifetime since I fell in love with you. You’re it for me, Cas. Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” Cas said the word with absolute conviction and zero hesitation. Before Dean could even heave a sigh of relief, Cas was kneeling on the floor in front of him, kissing his breath away. 

Dean finally pulled back and said, “Don’t you want the ring?” with a laugh. Cas turned bright red but nodded, finally looking at it. 

“What is it made from? I’ve never seen one that looked like that before,” he said thoughtfully.

Dean slipped the ring onto Cas’ finger and thankfully, it fit perfectly. “It’s gunmetal and blue tungsten,” Dean said. “I know silver is more practical for our jobs, but the blue stripe reminded me of your eyes...I couldn’t resist.”

Cas flexed his finger thoughtfully, admiring the new addition, then looked intrigued once again. He took the ring off to examine the interior and gasped. “Olani hoath ol,” Cas whispered, reading the engraved script.

Okay, so apparently, Dean REALLY enjoyed chick flick moments, because he’d totally had “I love you” in Enochian engraved on Cas’ engagement ring. And if that chick flick moment lead to them only getting out of bed long enough to eat a room service meal, then he could definitely live with that.


End file.
